Goldtipped Arrow
by Rikkitsune
Summary: The edited and M rating friendly version. She was Psyche, a mortal cursed by Aphrodite for her enchanting beauty. He was Eros, the God who fell in love with her. A Rurouni Kenshin reworking of the famous and very romantic Classical myth.
1. Chapter 1

_**Gold-tipped Arrow – A Rurouni Kenshin Fanfiction**_

_**By Rikkitsune**_

_THE CAST_

_Eros: Kenshin_

_Psyche: Kaoru_

_Aphrodite: Tomoe_

_Hephaistos: Akira_

_Zephyrus: Sanosuke_

_Zeus: Hiko_

_Demeter: Tae_

_Amphitrite: Misao_

_Poseidon: Aoshi_

_Invisible Attendants: Yahiko, Tsubame_

_Persephone: Tokio_

_Hades: Saitou_

_Chloris: Megumi_

_All other characters are of my own creating, except for their names, which are mostly plucked from Greek myths._

_**Hello Everyone! Goldtipped Arrow is back on FFN. This time, I plan to be extremely careful and keep to the ratings guidelines. I don't want to be reported again. I will post each of the old chapters once I have edited them and removed the explicit material. If you want to read the original version, go to my archive, 'Wish'. Details are on my author's profile.**_

**_This chapter is the same as the original, for the reason that there is nothing here that breaches the M rating. Be that as it may, please heed the warnings._**

_This fanfic is based on the myth of Cupid and Pysche. The story itself has been told in both Roman and Greek mythology, and the most common story often features characters from both mythologies. For the sake of consistency, I will be using the names from Greek mythology, which is my stronger area. The cast list shows you who is who. I will try to stay as true to the original story as possible, however I will be including some new characters and parts as I go along._

_**WARNINGS: This story is rated M for incest and slight citrus thus far. Bear in mind that the Greek Gods and Goddesses have always displayed tendencies towards sexual deviance in the myths. I'm just going with it. There will also be lemony goodness in abundance later on in the story.** _

_Many thanks to my beta reader Ice-Cool, who ruthlessly picks holes in all my plotlines. Where would I be without you?_

_DISCLAIMER: I do not own Rurouni Kenshin and its characters, nor do I own the original story of Cupid and Psyche, the Greek Gods, or the myths that come with them._

**CHAPTER ONE**

Psyche gripped the white marble ledge of her balcony until the pain in her fingers faded into a burning numbness, staring out onto the ocean in front of her. An outsider would have the impression that she was searching the great glittering stretch of blue, but in fact her gaze was completely internal.

_Why do I feel this way?_

She couldn't tell with exact certainty when this feeling had begun, although she could recall certain moments in her life that had contributed to its strength. Moments when her handmaiden had told stories about having fun with her friends down in the village, or when she saw a group of young girls talking and laughing happily together in the agora. Psyche herself had no real friends to speak of, having so far lived a cosseted life where she was mostly kept apart from people outside her father's house. The most painful moments, however, occurred when she saw the loving smiles shared between her mother and father, or when she saw a young couple exchange an affectionate caress, believing that no one was watching. These moments were usually accompanied by mysterious feelings of restlessness and dissatisfaction.

Over the years the feeling had been steadily growing and twisting its tendrils into every corner of her being. Now, it felt almost like madness. A hot, strangling, suffocating madness that was almost unbearable. It was an overwhelming compulsion to run, to escape, to be free. Psyche wanted to scream, rage and throw something. Something expensive and breakable, that would hit the wall with a satisfying crash and shatter into many satisfying little pieces at her feet.

But she would not. Women of her breeding and class did not engage in such ungainly and unfeminine activities.

Abruptly, Psyche turned away from the ocean view. The sun was near its peak and the heat was reaching an uncomfortable level. She would have to return indoors, lest the sun damage her delicate complexion. If she appeared before her mother or attendants with so much as a freckle, all of Hades' realm would break loose. The young woman suppressed a rather unladylike snort as she shuffled through the doorway leading into her bedchamber. She could almost hear their voices in her ear:

"_My lady Psyche, a woman of your wealth and station must stay out of the sun! Your skin is much too fine!"_

"_Do you want your skin to become brown and shrivelled like some common peasant working in the fields? No man will ever want you!"_

"No man seems to want me anyway," Psyche muttered resentfully and she retreated further into the sanctuary of her private apartment. She paused and glanced at her bed, an opulent looking collection of fine silk coverlets in magenta, pale rose and tangerine. Carefully arranged matching pillows with gold thread trim adorned the head and sheer white silk curtains were draped over tall, ornately carved satinwood bedposts standing around the edges, giving the semblance of privacy. It was a beautiful resting place and one of the many expressions of the wealth and comfort in which her family lived.

Her mother and father were the King and Queen of the lands surrounding their home. That made Psyche and her two sisters, Pasiphae and Phaedra, princesses. Psyche unconsciously wrinkled her nose at the thought. It wasn't that she was ungrateful for their monetary situation, quite the opposite. It was just that the daughters of Kings and Queens were treated as commodities rather than people. Psyche's sisters had passed on whispered rumours to her that marriages would be arranged for the three of them as soon as a beneficial alliance could be found. The thought of being given to a man in marriage in this manner made Psyche feel like some sort of chattel, little more than a Spartan helot.

Still, a treacherous part of her mind refused to see the situation at a singular angle. The awful madness seized her again, and she quickly crossed the room to sit down heavily in front of her mirror, head bowed while the feeling subsided. After a few moments, Psyche lifted her head and examined her reflection.

Countless people had called Psyche beautiful. Many more had likened her beauty to that of Aphrodite herself. When other people looked at Psyche they saw long, shimmering, straight black hair that fell to her waist, most often worn pulled back and gathered at her crown with pins and ribbons. They saw eyes of vivid cobalt, framed by long, sooty lashes and skin that was pale, dewy and smooth, without blemish.

When Psyche looked at herself, she saw the same ordinary black hair, blue eyes and white skin that greeted her in the mirror every day. She lifted her hands and absently traced her fingers over the high cheekbones, straight nose, full lips and well defined jaw line. She let them move lower, down the sides of her rounded breasts, over her slim waist, until they came to rest upon the appealing flare of her hips. She wasn't an incredibly tall woman, being also more petite in her stature than voluptuous.

The treacherous part of Psyche's mind was speaking to her through her hands and her eyes.

"_You tell yourself that being viewed as property to be passed off in marriage is an awful thing, and yet here you are, examining your body for physical flaws!"_

"_I just want to know that I'm not defective,"_ Psyche answered herself defensively in her mind.

"_You are just being vain, like all the other women grooming themselves for marriage,"_ the voice scolded her._ "You have a fair face and body, adequate enough to please any man."_

"_Then why do I feel like this?" _Psyche asked._ "Why am I so wretched? Why am I afflicted with this madness?"_

"_When you are married," _the treacherous voice whispered _"your husband will look after you and you won't feel this madness any longer."_

"But when will that be?" Psyche wailed out loud, flinging her hands in front of her to land on her dressing table with a thump. "How long must I wait? Why does no one come? Why does no one seek my hand?"

But there was no answer, just her anguished reflection staring back at her. Resisting the urge to cry, Psyche slowly straightened her already immaculate hair and clothing, the action helping to calm and smooth her troubled countenance.

"Sister!"

Psyche started at the sound of her sister's voice in her doorway. Turning, she placed what she hoped was a welcoming smile across her face. "What is it Pasiphae?"

Pasiphae stepped into the room, wearing an expression that Psyche had come to recognise as half admonishing, half pitying. The resemblance to Psyche was fairly obvious, although Pasiphae was taller and curvier with longer limbs. Her eyes weren't the same shade of blue as Psyche's and they were set more deeply and further apart in her face. Her nose was larger and her lips weren't as full. She was dressed in a deep burgundy chiton with gold embroidery, which matched the dark cosmetic on her lips and cheeks.

"I was sent to find you and bring you down to the main hall," Pasiphae answered, her superior attitude radiating from her in waves. "Sister, why do you spend so much of your time in your bedchamber alone?" Her tone was patronising, poorly concealed with fake sympathy. "It is not natural to be so solitary. You make Father and Mother worry for your health."

Psyche swallowed her irritation. Her parents were never happy unless they were wearing her as a shawl. She was always being paraded around by her family like some pretty trinket.

"I thought merely to keep out of their way, they have been so busy entertaining guests lately," she lied.

"The majority of those guests have come here with the intent of seeing you Psyche and you know it," Pasiphae chastised. She smoothed the skirt of her robe with deliberate movements, as if punctuating her statement. "Your absence has been widely commented on."

"I'm flattered."

"I'm sure." Pasiphae observed her younger sister coolly. It was a well-known fact that Psyche was quiet and sullen. She was by nature a brooder: much too willing to shun the company of others in favour of moping about in her room.

"If you really had any respect for our family and our prospects," she continued, "you would do your duty and stop hiding yourself away like a recluse."

Psyche didn't answer and Pasiphae felt a flash of anger, stirring up the bitter jealousy she already harboured for her younger sister. How _could_ she hide herself away like this when she had the opportunity to bring so much wealth and honour to their family? She was deliberately and selfishly withholding a valuable asset. She and Phaedra had always thought it was completely unfair that Psyche should possess such beauty and be so ungrateful for it. It was obvious that she was their father's favourite and she held the attention and adoration of men everywhere. She and Phaedra on the other hand, Pasiphae thought resentfully, were the inferior versions, the castoffs that men would marry as a consolation prize if they could not win Psyche's hand.

"It will soon be time to travel to the shore to pay our yearly tribute to Poseidon the Earthshaker," Pasiphae said at length. "Father and Mother require you to attend."

"Yes, of course," Psyche answered quickly and Pasiphae smiled slightly. Psyche was pious to the point of foolishness. "I will prepare with all haste and meet you in the main hall."

"I will tell Father and Mother," Pasiphae assured her with an imperious air and swept out of the room. Psyche watched her go, feeling for some reason that she had just lost some kind of battle. She shook the feeling off and called for her handmaiden to bring her white robes of supplication so that she could dress for the ceremony.

II

Psyche walked slowly down the dusty road with her family and a large crowd of villagers, heading towards the shore. It wasn't very far away; the walk would only take an hour or so. The walk itself was quite picturesque and hardly unpleasant, even in the heat. Psyche's home was situated on the side of a mountain which sloped down towards the ocean, with the other Ithacan people living at varying levels below. The breeze from the ocean whisked upwards towards the large company, soothing away the discomfort caused by the hot sun.

Ithaca, Psyche's home, was a naturally green and mountainous island. It was difficult to keep horses in Ithaca because of the hilly terrain and people mostly kept pigs, goats and cattle as livestock. Donkeys were the conventional beast of burden. Trade was an essential part of Ithaca's economy, with exportation of wine, olive oil, wheat, flax and dried fruit being the biggest industries. The other Greek poleis paid good money for these high quality products. Ithaca had good trade relations with most of Greece, but in particular with the nearby islands of Cephallenia, Zacynthos and Corcyra. As a result, Psyche's family often made diplomatic visits to these places. While Psyche considered herself fortunate to be able to travel to those lovely places so frequently, her homeland of Ithaca held the most special place in her heart.

Psyche stared down at her plain leather sandals as she walked, avoiding the adoring eyes of the people around her. Her garb was simple and austere—identical to the other members of her family and the people walking alongside them—as custom dictated for ceremonies of tribulation to the Gods. She wore a white robe of woven flax and wool, belted at the waist with a strip of unornamented brown leather. No jewellery decorated her fingers, wrists, neck or ears and no cosmetic adorned her face. Her hair was unbound and fell like a glistening black curtain down her back. But still, to the many people surrounding her, Psyche was a vision of ethereal beauty. Numerous young men tried in vain to engage her in meaningless conversation, often approaching her with garlands and bouquets of flowers. Other people seemed content to just toss the flowers at her feet as she passed. It was a common thing for Psyche to arrive at her various destinations with great armfuls of flowers and a mob of devoted followers. The situation had become such that she often enlisted the help of her handmaidens to carry the many tokens of admiration she received whenever she left the house.

The people of her homeland had developed a tendency to worship Psyche in the place of Aphrodite, goddess of love and beauty. Word of Psyche's beauty had spread as far as Thrace and her parents were constantly welcoming guests from across the sea expressing their desire to look upon the Ithacan King's youngest daughter. Her father and mother, for their part, welcomed the attention to the family, believing that Psyche's fame would inevitably secure a marriage beneficial to the survival of Ithaca. Pasiphae and Phaedra appeared accustomed and somewhat indifferent to all the fuss, but Psyche knew that envy lay within their hearts. She had overheard them once, talking quietly to one another about how she was impious and ungrateful for the blessings bestowed upon her by the Gods.

Psyche herself watched Aphrodite's Ithacan temples deteriorate with rapidly increasing fear and dismay. She felt that being worshipped in the stead of the goddess of love and beauty was a grave impiety, worthy of calling down the wrath of Olympus upon her head. Aphrodite's jealousy of mortals in particular was legendary and frightening in its own right. The consequences of her anger could be catastrophic. Psyche felt powerless to divert the trouble that would surely come of this situation and strived to act piously and respectfully in order to counterbalance the behaviour of the Ithacan people.

Psyche supposed, as the path slowly twisted downhill, that it was these circumstances which lead to her feelings of separateness and solitude. She had always felt as though she were alone and different to other people. She had decided quite a long time ago that being different wasn't necessarily a good thing. People acted strangely around her, almost as if they feared her. Visitors came to look upon her in their flocks, but none seemed interested in really talking to her, befriending her or seeking her hand. It was as if she were a fine horse for sale in the marketplace, but the price placed upon her was too high.

She would gladly trade places with her sisters, who were inundated with suitors and offers of marriage. In their situations, it was a matter of choosing the best offer from a multitude, while in her situation it was a matter of waiting for an offer to be made.

III

Aphrodite was in a bad mood.

The goddess of love and beauty paced her boudoir restlessly, a sour look etched upon her otherwise radiant features. She had long, silky blue-black hair that fell in a gentle wave to her mid back, with shorter sections in front that served to feather becomingly around her pale, heart shaped face. She wore a fringe that tapered softly to a point in the middle of her brow. She had a tall, lithe figure with slender, gracefully shaped limbs. Her skin was smooth, unblemished and milky white to the point of luminescence. Her dark, long-lashed eyes were set wide apart in a face that seemed naturally serene and seductive at the same time. She was dressed in a comely lilac confection of silk and chiffon that hugged her curves in all the right places and floated smoothly around her body in the others, adding to her aura of other-worldly appeal. Her every movement was the epitome of grace and hypnotic charm and she knew it all too well.

"How dare those foolish men worship _her_ instead of me! Me! The very goddess of the qualities they claim that she possesses in such abundance!" Aphrodite's consternation knew no bounds. "My shrines are left derelict and forgotten, to crumble to the ground like so much discarded rubbish, while they trail along after that arrogant child Psyche, throwing flowers!" Aphrodite paused in her pacing to stomp her foot indignantly. "Am I to be eclipsed in my rightful honours by some insignificant mortal girl? I am the divine goddess of love and beauty, while she is a pitiful lump of clay moulded in my image who will deteriorate and return to the dust centuries before I reach the bloom of my prime!"

Aphrodite glanced around petulantly at her opulent surroundings. Her bed and furniture were intricate carvings of pearl and ivory, inlaid with pure gold and amber. Her curtains, bedclothes and floor coverings were the finest woven silk, in elegant and tasteful colours of green, maroon and alabaster. Strewn haphazardly among her possessions were countless gifts from her lovers, mortals and Gods alike. Aphrodite was far from a virgin; she believed that sex was one of the greater pleasures in life and indulged in it as often as she possibly could. She had borne children to several Gods and mortal men; however she chose not to concern herself with most of them. One of her sons in particular was her favourite and he was never far from her presence. Eros, one of her three sons by Ares, the God of war. She rarely saw her other two sons by Ares, Phobos and Deimos, as they were constant companions to their father, particularly on the battlefield.

Ares. The name alone caused a delicious anticipatory shiver to run through her. As far as lovers went, Ares was one of the best. The numerous fantasies she had harboured about being taken roughly, viciously and possessively had all been thoroughly and systematically fulfilled by Ares. He was a master of rough, yet satisfying love-making, his relentlessness often wearing down even Aphrodite's legendary stamina. Bearing him three children had been worth it in exchange for the mind-blowing sex. The single bad memory she recalled of her time as his lover was when her cripple of a husband, Hephaistos, had caught them in bed together. Apollo, that uncontrollable gossip, had let slip to Hephaistos that she and Ares were sleeping together in secret and her husband had created a golden net which had captured Ares and herself in the middle of one of their more passionate trysts. Aphrodite had thought she would die of embarrassment, caught as she was in her position astride Ares, close to orgasm and unable to move because of the net. Hephaistos had called all of the Olympian Gods to come and witness her shame. However, to Aphrodite's great relief, they had simply laughed at her husband, with Poseidon stepping in to persuade him to let them out of the trap.

Aphrodite felt a familiar throbbing ache begin to build between her legs and a contemplative smile crossed her perfect face. Perhaps she would invite Ares over for a visit sometime soon. But for now, she had more important things to attend to.

"Eros!" she called, turning to her large window, framed with billowing white silk curtains. Within a few minutes, she heard a gentle flapping of wings and a much loved form appeared on her windowsill.

Eros, her son, truly was a beautiful creature, destined to look forever as a young man a few years into his prime. He had long silky hair almost down to his waist, a shade of crimson that was known to shine a lighter scarlet in the sunlight. He usually wore it gathered with a leather band high on the back of his head, although Aphrodite preferred it loose; she had always had a fetish for playing with his hair. Long strands escaped from the band to hang around his face and in front of his expressive eyes, which were usually an enchanting shade of violet. It was only when Eros was provoked into losing control of his emotions that his eye colour changed to a burning gold. He had a long, slender body similar in form to his mother's, although his skin was an attractive shade of golden brown and stretched tightly over well-formed muscles that he had obviously inherited from his father. He most often went about shirtless, much to the delight of the females around him, not excluding his mother. Aphrodite had accepted the fact long ago that she was sexually attracted to her son. They had never had sex, but there were times when they had come close. Today, Eros simply wore a pair of flowing white silk pants and nothing else, save for the elaborately decorated gold and leather quiver and ebony bow that he had slung carelessly over his broad shoulders. He had a pair of feathered wings sprouting from his shoulder blades, a clean and pure shade of white. His one flaw was the diagonal scar that marred his left cheek. He had acquired that scar during a quarrel with his father. Neither father nor son would disclose the details to Aphrodite, much to her irritation.

"You called for me?" His voice was deep, masculine and seductive. He possessed many charms that Aphrodite liked to think he had inherited from her. She crossed the room to stand in front of her son and he sprang lightly from the windowsill onto the floor.

"Yes." She stood on her toes and kissed Eros on the mouth. It wasn't a chaste kiss, or a kiss that a mother would give to a son; rather, it was an open-mouthed kiss that a woman would give to her lover. Eros responded in kind, tangling his tongue with hers and reaching out to pull her hips firmly against his. His mother was the most beautiful woman in the world, he would be crazy to not feel some sort of attraction to her.

Eventually, Aphrodite broke the kiss, looking up at her son with lazy desire and slightly flushed cheeks. He simply observed her stoically, accustomed to his mother's covetous attitude.

"I want you to do something for me, my darling," she purred, turning away and leading him by the hand towards her bed. Once there, she reclined gracefully across the cushions, looking up at Eros through her lashes while he stood silently in front of her.

"Anything," he answered, wondering what she had in mind. He had been a little bit bored of late. The most excitement he had been able to conjure recently was that amusing little episode of payback against Apollo. The insufferable braggart had been loudly and publicly poking fun at Eros' bow and arrows, proclaiming that he was still much too young to be handling such adult weapons. Like the couple of centuries Apollo had on him made any difference.

"You should leave bows and arrows to skilled archers like me!" he had laughed scornfully. Eros, furious at this attempt to humiliate him in front of the other Gods, had simply bided his time and waited to get even. The time had come when he spied Apollo brazenly looking over a young river nymph named Daphne. She was one of Artemis' company, a virgin huntress that shunned all men and happily roamed the lands, completely absorbed in the thrill of the hunt. Smiling wickedly, he had whipped a gold-tipped arrow from his quiver and, using his bow, had shot it straight into Apollo's heart. Apollo himself felt nothing, but the damage had been done and Eros' arrow had filled him with an all-consuming love for Daphne. Eros then withdrew another arrow from his quiver; this time, it was tipped with lead. This arrow was shot into the heart of Daphne, inspiring her with an even more bitter hatred for men, particularly Apollo.

Then, it was simply a matter of sitting back and watching the drama unfold. Apollo made a complete fool of himself, relentlessly pursuing poor Daphne who wanted nothing to do with him. After a lengthy pursuit, Daphne had thrown herself to the ground on the bank of her father's river and begged him to help her. Peneius, the river god and Daphne's father, changed her into a laurel tree in order to save her from Apollo. Eros had thought he would die laughing as he watched Apollo stroking the laurel tree lovingly, utterly flabbergasted that this female had managed to escape from him. The fool had then gone on to proclaim the laurel as his sacred tree.

Yes, it would be good to stir up some more mischief. Perhaps he could enlist his partner in crime, Zephyrus, to come along. He turned his attention back to his mother.

"There is a girl, a mortal girl that has dared to deny me my rightful honours as the goddess of love and beauty," Aphrodite was saying. "I want you to help me have my revenge against her."

"What do you want me to do?" Eros asked eagerly.

Aphrodite smiled indulgently. "By frowning upon Psyche for being worshipped as a Goddess I have already ensured that no mortal man of worth will ever seek her hand. Mortals are far too cowardly to risk incurring my wrath. But I want you to make sure she is duly humiliated for even considering herself to be a rival to my beauty and charm. I want you to give me a revenge as sweet as my injuries are great. I want you to inspire in that haughty Psyche a love for some low, mean, unworthy being. The uglier the better. In fact, only the poorest, most hideous creature you can find will suffice. Make her fall desperately, passionately in love with him."

Eros smirked at his mother. She was truly diabolical. Oh yes, he would definitely have fun on this little excursion.

"Where will I find this Psyche?" he asked.

"She is the youngest daughter of the King and Queen of Ithaca," Aphrodite answered. "You will find her apartments at the top of the royal house."

"And what is my reward for running this little errand for you?" Eros asked his mother, arching a dark red brow. Aphrodite grinned.

"Oh, I would have thought that the pure joy in creating humiliation and upheaval would be enough for you!" she answered, feigning surprise. "However," she purred, casually slipping the strap of her dress off one of her pale shoulders, baring one perfect breast to his view, "I'm sure I could think of something more worth your while."

_Truly_ diabolical. Eros shook his head, smiling ruefully. "It's a tempting offer, but you do know me too well. Simply creating mischief is payment enough for me. I will leave with all haste." He strode back across the boudoir to the window, spread his wings and departed without another word.

Aphrodite watched the window for some time afterwards, idly stroking her exposed nipple with slender fingers. "Pity," she said to herself and then turned her thoughts towards playing hostess to Ares.

IV

"So that's the famous Psyche?" Notus asked his brothers.

"Yes, that's her, so I've been told," Boreas answered.

"Let's pass by them again," Zephyrus suggested. "I want to get a better look."

"You're such a time-waster," Notus complained. "It's lucky that Poseidon forbade any fog or rain to fall today, or I would be carrying my vases all over the place."

"Well, that's your problem, being the South Wind," Boreas responded cheekily. "Zephyrus and I don't have to carry anything nearly as cumbersome."

Notus, the South Wind, Boreas, the North Wind and Zephyrus the West Wind, invisible to mortal eyes, flexed their wings and wheeled about silently, rushing back towards the large group of people kneeling on the sand.

"She really is stunning," Zephyrus commented, hovering just above Psyche's head. His brother and cousin joined him, gazing down into Psyche's pensive features. "A woman of her beauty, I'm surprised she hasn't been paid a visit from Zeus yet."

"Don't let Hera hear you say that," Boreas laughed. "You'll get her into all sorts of trouble!"

"I think she's in enough trouble as it is," Notus interjected gravely. "Aphrodite has worked herself up into a fine rage over the poor child."

"Ah," Zephyrus responded, the sound more an exhalation of air than anything else. "Yes, the Ithacan people are neglecting her worship in favour of this girl."

"What do you think Aphrodite will do?" Boreas pondered.

"I think the better question to ask is what _won't_ she do?" Notus answered him. "You are aware, of course, of her relationship with Hermes the Giant-Killer, and her closeness to Apollo, the Golden Archer?"

"Oh dear," was all Boreas could say.

"Oh dear indeed," Notus nodded his head grimly. "It's simply a matter of time before she exacts her revenge on this mortal."

"Or even worse, she'll unleash her son Eros upon her," Boreas agreed, the corner of his mouth twitching.

"Come now, Eros isn't that bad and you know it!" Zephyrus cut in tetchily. His friendship with Eros was well known and Zephyrus was staunchly loyal to his friends. He raked a hand through his spiky brown hair, blinking his large brown eyes in agitation. He uncurled his long, lean form from its position of observance in front of Psyche and drifted into the air a few feet above her. Boreas and Notus followed suit.

"Eros is still young and just wants to have a good time," Zephyrus continued. "And with a mother like Aphrodite, he's got no hope of being any different."

"Well, you do have a point there," Notus conceded.

"All defending aside though," Boreas piped up "That doesn't help the plight of that pretty little girl down there."

Zephyrus sighed. "I suppose you're right. But what are we going to do about it? Nothing, that's what. It's not our place to interfere in mortal affairs, particularly when the Olympians have decided to meddle with them. We can only hope that some benevolent God decides to take pity on her."

"Yes," Boreas agreed, but Zephyrus could see that his interest was already waning. "We should be getting back to Thrace. I have been away from my Orithyia for a long time."

"Speaking of meddling in mortal's lives…" Zephyrus began snidely. Orithyia was the mortal daughter of the King of Attica. Boreas had seen her dancing by a stream and become infatuated with her. He had abducted her and taken her to their castle in Thrace, where she became pregnant. She was due to give birth any day now and Boreas was fretting over her, despite himself.

"Hush," Boreas snapped. "You will be the same when you find yourself a suitable woman."

Zephyrus and Notus, laughing heartily, rose further into the air, followed by a scowling Boreas and began the speedy journey home.

But Zephyrus didn't forget Psyche as easily as his brother and cousin. He had a nagging feeling that he would be seeing her again.

_**Author's notes:** _

_Please read and review or I won't know if I'm any good!_

_'Agora' is the loosely used Greek word for a marketplace._

_A 'helot' is the term for a slave that was used in Ancient Sparta. Helots were typically people who were forced into slavery when the Spartans invaded their lands. They were considered to be the bottom tier of society with no personal rights or freedoms and their lives were the property of the Citizens they served._

'_Poleis' is the plural form of 'polis' which means 'city-state'. These city-states were basically independent political units that controlled a limited amount of territory surrounding the state. Sparta, for example, controlled more than 3000 square miles of surrounding territory._


	2. Chapter 2

_**Gold-tipped Arrow – A Rurouni Kenshin Fanfiction**_

_**By Rikkitsune**_

_THE CAST_

_Eros: Kenshin_

_Psyche: Kaoru_

_Aphrodite: Tomoe_

_Hephaistos: Akira_

_Zephyrus: Sanosuke_

_Zeus: Hiko_

_Demeter: Tae_

_Amphitrite: Misao_

_Poseidon: Aoshi_

_Invisible Attendants: Yahiko, Tsubame_

_Persephone: Tokio_

_Hades: Saitou_

_Chloris: Megumi_

_All other characters are of my own creating, except for their names, which are mostly plu__cked from Greek myths._

* * *

_**Hello again! Here is chapter 2. I've edited the lime scene between Eros and Psyche to make it a bit more vague and less explicit. Personally, I feel that the scene has lost a lot of its impact through the sanitising, but what can I do? The original version is archived at Wish.**_

_A big 'thank you' to the people who have read and reviewed my story. I was so excited when I saw that I had reviews! Kyaaah! Reviews help me keep on writing, so thank you everyone._

_Secondly, to those who haven't already been informed, I am not using the RK character names for the reason that I am re-telling a Greek myth and I don't want Japanese names detracting from the authenticity of the story. Please try to understand that this is **my** method as an author. I am including a cast list at the beginning of each chapter and hopefully it will become more clear to you all as we go along. If you require an example of this method in practice, may I point you to the beautiful story **Pomegranate** by EbonyFox. She uses the names of Gods and Godesses in the stead of the RK character names. It doesn't detract from the story at all, in fact, it heightens the atmosphere she is building. I will try to do the same. _

_Many thanks to my beta reader Ice-Cool, who ruthlessly picks holes in all my plotlines. Where would I be without you?_

_WARNINGS: Still rated M for lime in this chapter. Be warned!_

_DISCLAIMER: I do not own Rurouni Kenshin and its characters, nor do I own the original story of Cupid and Psyche, the Greek Gods, or the myths that come with them. I also do not own any part of The Odyssey by Homer._

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**CHAPTER TWO**

Psyche loved the ocean.

She loved the colour, the smell and the feeling it invoked inside her body when she was beholding the sheer magnitude of it. The ocean made her feel so small, insignificant and powerless. Psyche liked to imagine all the exotic and powerful creatures that dwelt within the crystalline depths, the assorted marine deities, mermaids, sea dragons and other wonderful beings. Most of all, Psyche was gripped with a curiosity about Poseidon, the God of the sea. What was he like? Psyche had heard many stories about occasions where the Gods and Goddesses had walked among mortal men and women and when they had appeared to people in their dreams. She wondered if Poseidon or Amphitrite had ever visited Ithaca in a mortal guise. Poseidon, as a male more than a God, was mostly known for his volatile temper as well as for his tempestuous relationship with his wife, the sea nymph Amphitrite.

Psyche wondered what it would be like to have such a passionate relationship with a man. Her knowledge of men was somewhat limited, but what she did know was that men in general liked their women to be pleasing to the eye. She supposed that this was why so much was made of her physical appearance. She had often recalled wistfully the many stories about famous lovers that her handmaiden had told her as she was growing up. One of her favourite stories was about Hero and Leander.

Hero was a priestess of Aphrodite in Sestos, while Leander lived on the other side of the Hellespont channel in Abydos. The couple met and fell deeply in love, but Hero was barred from marriage because of her calling as a priestess. So, in order to carry on seeing each other in secret, Leander would swim across the Hellespont to Sestos every night to be with Hero, guided by a light that she placed in her tower. Each day at dawn he would swim back across to his home in Abydos. But then one night there was a tempest, and the light in Hero's tower blew out. Leander lost his sense of direction and drowned in the channel. His body washed ashore at Sestos and Hero, overcome by grief, committed suicide by throwing herself from her tower. Psyche liked to imagine herself in Hero's place, having a man that loved her so much he would brave the cold waters of the Hellespont every night just to be with her. Often when she lay awake at night she relived the story, re-telling it in her mind so that Hero did not let the light in her tower blow out, or so that Leander convinced Hero to run away with him to be married.

Tucking her fantasies away for the moment, Psyche followed Pasiphae and Phaedra across the beach, taking her place in a circle surrounding the sacrificial fire-place in the soft white sand. Today the Ithacan people were taking part in a sacrificial rite in order to pay tribute to Poseidon. Rituals of this kind took place on the occasions when Ithaca celebrated Poseidon's feast day and also after any earthquakes or particularly bad storms. The aim of each ceremony was to win the favour of Poseidon and also to cleanse Ithaca of any evils which would possibly bring the wrath of the sea God upon them. The presence of the entire population of the island was required for every ceremony and it was the task of the women to stand and observe in silence while the men would prepare the animals and make the sacrifice. It was of utmost importance, particularly when paying tribute to the Earth shaker, that the proper ritual was followed to the letter. If the ritual was not followed in the correct manner, it was considered to be disrespectful to the God or Goddess involved and they were likely to dispense some sort of punishment as a penalty. Psyche knew well the famous example of when Poseidon had exacted his revenge on the King of Crete for not honouring him in the proper fashion.

Minos had prayed to Poseidon for a sign that he should be the rightful ruler of Crete and Poseidon, in response, had sent him a beautiful white bull, which emerged from the waves on the shores of Crete. Unfortunately, Minos had refused to sacrifice the attractive animal, which had caused Poseidon to lose his temper. He had pronounced a cruel curse on Minos, which had caused his wife Pasiphae to be stricken with an incurable desire for the bull. Eventually, Minos had to enlist the services of the resident inventor and craftsman Daedalus, who created a wooden cow for Pasiphae to be fitted into so that she could mate with the bull. The result from this coupling had been the Minotaur, an unnaturally strong creature with the body of a man and the head of a bull. Daedalus had then been employed to build a vast labyrinth under Minos' palace to contain the dreadful animal. Subsequently, it became common practice for King Minos to demand a large peace tribute of male and female human slaves from the lands surrounding Crete every year. These unfortunate people were sent into the labyrinth to be devoured by the Minotaur.

Psyche raised her eyes and stared across the surface of the water, so calm and blue. She smiled wryly to herself, reflecting that her thoughts were more flighty than usual this day. She didn't normally give in to daydreams at a time like this.

When the ocean was this smooth and still, it was hard to believe that it could be anything but benign, or that men had been shipwrecked and drowned in storms on the sea. But Psyche knew that the Earth shaker caused earthquakes, floods and whipped the seas into a frenzied tempest when he was in an ill temper. Poseidon had flooded the countryside surrounding Athens shortly after it had been established in indignation that Athena, the Goddess of war and crafts, was chosen as the patron Goddess of the city over him. His rage had been placated only when Zeus intervened in order to create a compromise.

Now, Psyche watched as the villagers built a large fire and brought forward two beautiful black bulls. They were young and healthy with glossy coats that shone in the sunlight and rippled over the movement of their muscles. It was obvious that great effort had been expended in order to prepare them for sacrifice. Each of the bulls wore thick wreaths of colourful flowers and ribbons around their necks and their horns were coated with gold paint. As they were led past the spot where she was standing, the bulls lifted their heads and stared at Psyche with gentle brown eyes. Wait a minute, _were_ they brown? She must have been seeing things. Now, one bull had piercing icy blue eyes while the other had cheerful turquoise eyes the colour of the ocean in summer time. Since when did bulls have blue eyes? As she stared back at the animals in amazement, she experienced a peculiar feeling of being drawn in, and everything else around her faded away. It seemed as though time were moving much more slowly than usual. Psyche's limbs felt heavy and the sounds around her were muffled, as though she were listening to them through a thick wall of stone.

"_It appears that the stories we have heard about the mortal are correct." _A deep, solemn, monotonous voice resounded clearly through Psyche's head. She somehow knew with utmost certainty that it was the voice of Poseidon. _"She is quite beautiful."_

"_Yes, she is truly lovely." _The second voice was distinctly female and lacked the seriousness and flatness of the first. Her voice held laughter and the pitch rose and fell with the words. Psyche guessed that this must be Amphitrite, Poseidon's consort. _"It is no small wonder that she has drawn the attention of Aphrodite."_

"_Aphrodite?" _Psyche thought despairingly. _"So it has happened then."_

"_These tidings do not surprise you, girl?" _Psyche almost keeled over in shock when she realised that not only had Poseidon _heard her thoughts_, he was actually _speaking to her_.

"_N-n-no, M-mighty Earth shaker," _Psyche stammered, mortified that she tripped over her words even in her thoughts. _"I knew the day would come when I received punishment for being worshipped in the place of the Goddess. I can only pray that Aphrodite sees fit to spare my family from her vengeance."_

There was a silence following this statement and Psyche began to tremble, despite herself. She was in the presence of Poseidon and Amphitrite. If they chose, they could kill her and destroy her entire homeland in an instant. She fervently hoped they did not take offense at her words.

"_Perhaps the girl is not as vain as she has been made out to be," _the female voice pronounced at length.

"_Perhaps,"_ Poseidon agreed, his voice betraying absolutely no emotion whatsoever. _"Take heed of our words mortal, and beware. The Goddess' eyes are upon you. Without direct appeasement, none can escape her wrath."_

All at once, the bull's eyes were liquid brown once more; devoid of that previous intelligence that seemed more than human. Time seemed to be moving at the normal speed again and Psyche could clearly hear the voices of the people around her and the rustle of their clothes. However, the colours around her were now unnaturally bright and the sun hurt her eyes, as if she had been sitting for too long in a darkened room. The bulls were led towards the pyre, where two men stood, holding the axes that would end the lives of the unfortunate beasts. Kneeling beside these men were two more men, holding sharp knives and ornately decorated golden dishes that would catch the blood of the sacrifices.

Psyche wondered if what had happened was just a figment of her imagination. Had Poseidon _really_ spoken to her? She squinted through her eyelashes in thought as the village men prayed loudly and sprinkled barley meal onto the sand. Abruptly, the axes swung downwards, severing the tendons in the bulls' necks, making them collapse onto the sand with a thud. Psyche followed the example of the other women present and raised her voice in a celebratory cry. When the axe-men lifted the bulls' heads from the sand, the two other men leaned forward with their blades in one hand and the dishes in the other. They cut the animals' throats in one quick, precise movement and wine-coloured blood gushed from the lacerations into their waiting hands. When the dark red life force had finished flowing from the bulls' bodies and into the dishes, the carcasses were dismembered swiftly by the Ithacan men. The thigh bones of the bulls were wrapped in layers of fat and topped with slabs of raw meat. Psyche's father took the bones, placed them carefully upon the fire and sprinkled red wine onto the flames, making the offering to Poseidon. While the offering was being made, the other men were sampling the livers, hearts and kidneys of the sacrifices and then carving the rest of the meat into small pieces to be skewered and roasted on the fire.

The ritual dictated that all of the meat from the sacrificial animals had to be consumed at the place of the ceremony before sundown; none of it was allowed to go to waste. The servants from Psyche's house worked quickly, scattering furs and cushions for her family to sit on, while the villagers spread out rugs and cloths for themselves. The squires flitted between the large clusters of people, mixing wine with water in bowls and pouring unmixed water over people's hands. This feast day for Poseidon was one of the rare occasions where the royal family and the villagers ate together in the same area.

Psyche took a seat next to her sisters on a plush fur rug. They were talking animatedly and they showed no acknowledgement of their younger sister's arrival. Psyche, accustomed to their slights, simply made herself comfortable and began listening to their conversation.

"Can you believe it?" Phaedra was saying. "Father just brought me the tidings today. I am so happy."

"As am I," Pasiphae answered her. "I am glad of heart that you are to be married at last."

"Married?" Psyche burst out. Her cheeks turned a faint pink as her sisters turned chastising looks upon her. She had interrupted their conversation.

"Forgive me," she amended quickly, before they could say anything to the tune of the irritation shining out of their eyes. "I didn't mean to interrupt you, but I was excited at this wonderful news. Who will be your husband Phaedra?"

Phaedra gathered herself up so that she would be looking down at her sister, even while they were seated. If Pasiphae adopted a superior attitude while she conversed with Psyche, Phaedra was twice as bad. Phaedra was the oldest of the Ithacan princesses and she possessed the same ebony hair and blue eyes as her two sisters. Phaedra was the shortest of the three of them and was also quite petite which contrasted with her rather obvious plumpness. Her face was pretty, less severe than Pasiphae's but there was hardness to her eyes and mouth that promised a vicious temper. Her eyes were a deep indigo and glittered underneath high arched brows and a smooth white forehead. Her dark hair curled elegantly around her shoulders, something that Psyche had always been slightly envious of, having straight hair herself.

"I am to be married to the Prince of Cephallenia," Phaedra answered haughtily. "I have been told that he is very handsome and is first in line to his father's throne."

"That is wonderful!" Psyche said, clapping her hands in enthusiasm. "It means that you will still be close to Ithaca and we can come and visit you often."

"I suppose." Phaedra pronounced the words in a way that made it all too clear how distasteful she considered the idea to be. "Hopefully Father will find some man who will be willing to take on the burden of _you_ as a wife, then you will understand how busy a married woman can be. You will find that there will be very little time for frequent visits from family members."

Stung by the double barb, Psyche chose to remain silent. Phaedra, apparently satisfied that she had made her point, turned back to Pasiphae.

"I have heard a rumour from my handmaiden that a betrothal is nigh for you as well my sister," she said in a much friendlier tone.

"I have heard the same rumour," Pasiphae laughed. "Although, I have had the rumour supplemented by a conversation with Mother. Apparently, he is a lord in Corcyra with a sizeable estate and many servants."

That's also quite close to Ithaca, Psyche thought, being careful not to speak and interrupt her sisters again. Could it be that Father took such a great deal of time to negotiate their betrothals because he wanted them to live nearby? I wonder when Father will call for _me _so he can tell me about my betrothal? Psyche didn't dare speak up and ask her sisters whether they had heard anything. She had no doubt that it would simply give them an excuse to criticise her roundly for being a recluse and how it prevented her from finding a husband. Worse still, there would likely be comments made on the topic that Phaedra had alluded to before: that Psyche was a burden. She could only assume that being a burden was a direct correlation to her fame. It would be difficult to settle into anonymity and slip into the role of wife and mother if there were still people arriving from all over Greece just for a glimpse of you. There _is_ a big drawback to being extolled as good looking, Psyche thought bitterly. No one would approach you. It made for a terribly lonely life.

When a squire approached them, Psyche held out her hands with a gentle smile. She had always been taught by her mother that being kind to the servants was essential for a healthy class hierarchy. If you made them feel as though serving you was a pleasure, they would happily continue to serve you. The squire, predictably, blushed a healthy scarlet red and fumbled with the water, sloshing more of it onto the ground than on her hands. Stifling a giggle, Psyche thanked the young man sincerely and he moved on to attend to her sisters with considerably more composure, much to their annoyance. As Psyche arranged her skirt so that it would not get in the way while she ate, she missed the venomous glares being directed at her by her two sisters.

* * *

Upon arriving home from the ceremony, Psyche felt physically and emotionally exhausted, not to mention she had a headache that was building behind her eyes. She sat with her mother, sisters and female attendants in the main hall for an hour or so, half-listening to their idle chatter while she worked at her loom. Psyche had never been exceedingly good at 'women's work' and each time she would let her frustration show, her mother would pet her dark hair and soothe her with the promise that her beauty would fetch a handsome husband of wealth and stature and she would have many attendants to do the work for her. A small, stubborn part of Psyche refused to depend upon this promise, believing that she should contribute equally to the work being done in her future husband's house. So, she forced herself to work alongside her handmaidens, trying her best to master the arts of spinning, sewing, weaving and mending. Of the four tasks, weaving, she believed, was the lesser evil.

Psyche was currently working on a tapestry to give to her father as a gift for his private chambers. It was depicting the story of Arachne the spinner and Psyche had thought herself rather clever for thinking of the idea. She hoped that her father would be as pleased with it as she was. Psyche loved her father dearly, although she didn't see as much of him these days as she would like. Her mother had told her that her father was busy with making trade negotiations and entertaining offers of marriage for herself and her sisters. Now of course, with the pending betrothals of Pasiphae and Phaedra, she knew the story was true. Her father was more physically affectionate with her than with Pasiphae or Phaedra and Psyche had a suspicion that she might be her father's favourite. She found that this idea gave her a large amount of comfort and security, since her mother in turn was more demonstrative with her sisters. She obviously saw them as closer to the ideal daughter, wife and mother than Psyche. The relationship Psyche shared with her father made her feel less insecure about the skills she seemed to lack in her mother's eyes. The raven-haired girl recalled with fondness the times as a child when she had been able to sit by the large hearth in the main hall at her father's feet while he petted her hair and told her amusing stories about his diplomatic visits to the other poleis. Those times had all but disappeared as Psyche grew into a woman. Now, she was lucky if she got to spend but an hour a day with him.

As Psyche occupied herself with thoughts of her father, her shuttle passed steadily back and forth, unfolding the story across her loom. Arachne was a young girl who was remarkably gifted in the domestic arts; in particular the art of weaving. Her tapestries were so lifelike and of such high quality that people came from all over Greece to watch her work and paid exorbitant amounts of money for her wares. This attention eventually caused Arachne to become vain and conceited, and she boasted that her talents as a weaver were unsurpassed by even the bright-eyed Athena herself. Incensed by this disrespect, Athena appeared before Arachne and challenged her to a weaving contest. Athena's finished tapestry was a magnificent testament to the wisdom and benevolence of the Gods, while Arachne's was an equally impressive insulting and mocking parody of the Olympians. While Arachne's tapestry was ultimately judged to be superior to Athena's, the Goddess still chose to punish Arachne for her vanity and transformed her into the first spider. Arachne's fate was to weave delicate and artful tapestries forever more, only to have people shudder at the sight of them and pull them to shreds.

Psyche paused to unpick a mistake in her weaving, her fingers cramped and stinging from holding the shuttle too tightly. At this rate, it would be years before she finished it! Her head was pounding by now and her concentration was waning. Giving up the battle with a heavy sigh, she touched her mother lightly on the arm to get her attention.

"Mother, I think that the heat has made me feel a little faint. I would like to retire to my room and rest."

Psyche's mother examined her daughter's face critically. "You do look a little flushed my dear," she conceded. "Go and rest, I will send Maia to your chambers with some cool water to wash your face."

Psyche rose to leave, grateful to get away. Her mother halted her escape with a raised hand. "Before you go, show me what you have done today." Psyche carried her tapestry over and laid it in her mother's lap with trepidation. The older woman looked over it with an experienced eye. "You are improving with each day my dear," she said at length. "I'm sure your father will be greatly pleased with his gift."

Smiling happily, Psyche took the tapestry from her mother and placed it carefully back across her loom. Then she exited the main hall with as much haste as was polite.

Wearily, she climbed the pale granite staircase to her room, her thoughts directed towards sleeping until her headache subsided. Her family would undoubtedly eat another meal in the evening, but Psyche was already satiated from the copious amounts of meat she had consumed at the ceremony. She hoped that her mother would leave her undisturbed.

When she walked into her bedchamber, she noted with relief that her handmaiden had already drawn the curtains for the evening, not expecting her mistress to come back to the apartment before retiring for the night. Psyche crossed the room quickly, pulling off her plain supplicant's robes and leaving them on the floor in favour of a thin silk nightdress. Not bothering to braid her thick, glossy hair, she collapsed onto her bed with a groan of relief. She was fast asleep within minutes, dreaming of a faceless man seeking her hand because of his burning love for _her_, rather than a burning love for making Ithaca an ally.

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Eros flew to his mother's gardens, armed with two small amber vases. He alighted gracefully in front of two fountains carved from pale coral; one producing sweet waters, the other bitter. Sweeping his windswept red hair over his shoulder, he gathered a small amount of water from each of the fountains into the amber vases. His intent was to use the sweet water to enhance the girl's beauty, but then use the bitter water as well to make sure that no man would dare to approach her. He would then wound the girl with a gold-tipped arrow to make sure she fell in love with an ugly man of his choosing. Eros hadn't found a suitable candidate yet, but the bitter water would keep the spell in suspension until she laid eyes upon her future husband. He smirked wickedly to himself as he carefully wrapped two leather thongs around the neck of each vase and suspended them from a notch on the top of his quiver. The absolute chaos this little prank would create! It would be so enjoyable to watch. Eros stretched his wings thoroughly before taking off; he didn't want any muscle cramps spoiling his fun. It was a fair flight from Cyprus to Ithaca.

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Eros spotted the Ithacan royal house without difficulty; it was the largest and most impressive establishment on the island. Following his mother's directions, he flew directly to the highest point of the building and alighted silently on a white marble balcony. He observed that the curtains had been drawn although it was only late afternoon. Perhaps Psyche was already asleep? His plan had been to simply wait in the apartment until the girl retired, but if she was already there, he could complete his task and be on his way before sundown.

Eros took in his surroundings with a brief, assessing glance. The balcony was clean and welcoming without being overly lavish. Narrow strands of ivy and sweet-smelling jasmine twisted around the Corinthian pillars holding up the ledge. There was a small satin wood table and chair on one side of the balcony decorated with a white and gold tablecloth and matching cushion.

It was definitely a female's apartment.

Ensuring that he would be invisible to mortal eyes, Eros simply walked through the closed double doors leading into the princess' bedchamber. One benefit of being a God was that physical objects posed no hindrance to his movements. Eros looked around the tastefully decorated room and thought to himself how quietly elegant it was, compared to his mother's ostentatious boudoir.

A small sound from the bed drew his attention. Eros silently made his way across the room and gazed down upon the person sleeping there. In an instant he understood why his mother perceived the girl as such a threat. If this was Psyche—and it had to be—she was simply breathtaking.

Her long black hair fanned out across the pillow she rested her head on, looking impossibly soft and shiny. She was sleeping uncovered and was dressed in a flimsy silk slip that left almost nothing to the imagination. As Eros watched her, fascinated, she sighed softly in her sleep and shifted her hips to lay one leg across the other. The movement caused the already dangerously short slip to ride up to the top of her thighs, presenting him with a clear view of her slender, shapely legs. The thin, twisted silk strained against the rounded outline of her breasts, making her nipples clearly visible through the cloth. She looked like a restless sleeper. Eros wondered if she was dreaming.

_I could give her something to dream about. _The thought came unbidden, almost startling him. As he gazed down at the sleeping girl, a swift, hot surge of desire flashed through his body, gathering at his loins. Eros clenched his fists in frustration as he felt his manhood begin to respond. Accompanying the feeling were many most unhelpful graphic ideas of exactly _what_ he would do to Psyche to make good on his earlier thought. His breathing quickened slightly at the excruciatingly detailed image in his mind of the girl unclothed and writhing in pleasure beneath him.

Eros took a couple of deep breaths, trying to calm himself and his now raging erection. Since when had he been so highly sexed? Despite the fact that he was a God charged with the task of making people fall in love with each other, Eros found that having fun playing tricks and getting into mischief had always taken precedence over the pleasures of the flesh. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had sex—or who it had been with—with definite clarity. Aphrodite certainly offered herself up to him on a platter often enough, but Eros found something fundamentally wrong with making love to his own mother. The other Gods had incredibly active sex-lives and Eros did find women attractive, but none had really seemed worth the time and effort necessary for love or marriage. In fact, this girl was the first to really capture his attention in this manner, not as a God, but as a male.

Summoning some self-control, Eros sat down carefully on the edge of the bed and studied Psyche more closely. She had the face of an angel, completely childlike and untroubled in sleep. He knew instinctively that the girl was a virgin, which, in his eyes, only added to her appeal. He was slightly surprised that Psyche had thus far been left unmolested by Zeus; the Thunderer had always had a weakness for beautiful young men and women. Eros felt almost sorry for the girl, she had an aura of innocence about her that was about to be tarnished by the fury of Aphrodite.

Eros knew that he should start what he had come to do, but he found he couldn't tear his eyes away from Psyche. Eros wondered what his mother would think if he just had sex with Psyche right then and there and placed the spell on her afterwards. Smiling to himself, he imagined the temper tantrum Aphrodite would throw if he spoiled her precious plan. All right, so maybe he couldn't ravish the girl senseless. A shame. But he should still do something to soothe the sexual frustration he was feeling. What was the harm in that? Besides, witnessing _her _enjoyment would be enough until he could get back home to Cyprus and take care of his own needs.

Pouring some of the bitter water from the first vase onto the fingers of his left hand, Eros reached out and gently traced the line of her full mouth, effectively wetting her lips. The bitter water would cause her to become unappealing to all men save the one he chose for her. Psyche, still fast asleep, exhaled gently and moved her face towards his hand. Taking this as a subconscious encouragement, Eros grinned and moved his fingers up over her cheekbones and delicate brows, then down over her pointed chin and the line of her neck. Psyche's skin was pearl white and petal soft; it was obvious she hardly ever went out in the sun. He took some time to admire her finely shaped shoulders and collarbones before continuing his exploration on into the valley between her breasts. He traced the outline of her breasts and then gently held one with his hand, his thumb slowly circling her nipple. As the skin tightened to a peak under his ministrations, Psyche exhaled again, the sound breathier this time.

Switching his attention to the other breast, Eros allowed his right hand to follow the line of her stomach down towards the junction of her thighs. He chuckled softly in satisfaction as Psyche restlessly uncrossed her legs, parting them as his hand moved lower. He pushed the hem of her slip up towards her stomach, exposing her shapely hips which were clad in silken underwear. Eros ran his fingers lightly over her inner thighs, marvelling at the satiny smoothness of the skin. Agonisingly aware of his own clamouring desire, he moved his hand upwards and cupped her womanhood, firmly pressing the heel of his hand against her. The slight dampness against his palm was a testament to the beginnings of Psyche's arousal and Eros was gratified that he could incite a physical reaction in her in such a short time.

Eros moved his hand, stroking the line of her womanhood firmly with his fingers while he ground his palm against the place where he knew she would feel the most pleasure. His efforts were rewarded when Psyche let out a small breathless moan no louder than a whisper, shifting her hips upwards slightly which pressed her womanhood more tightly into his hand. Eros swallowed hard despite himself, that little moan and the movement of her hips was sorely testing his resolution to pleasure her with his hands alone.

Abandoning her breast, Eros brought his left hand down to join his right in tugging the underwear down her legs and discarding it on the floor. When he touched her again, he could feel her damp heat and Eros desperately hoped that she wouldn't wake up before he could finish what he planned to do. He flicked his fingers upwards and Psyche shuddered in her sleep at the sensation. Eros clenched his teeth, she was so incredibly inviting. The impulse to replace his hand with his manhood or even his tongue was almost overwhelming. He was surprised and embarrassed to find that he was panting like an animal.

Resolving to finish this as quickly as possible before he made a complete fool of himself, Eros increased the pressure with one hand and drew a gold-tipped arrow from his quiver with the other. Once she reached fulfilment, Eros would prick her with the arrow in order to activate the spell. It would cause Psyche to fall in love with the husband he found for her.

Eros increased the speed of his ministrations, taking care to be gentle. Since she was a virgin, he would try to keep her maidenhead intact for her husband. In response to the touch, Psyche bucked off the bed and let out a pleading mewl. Clenching his teeth together even harder for control, Eros found the small, ridged internal pleasure point and stroked his fingers against it, strumming the spot like it was an instrument.

Eros froze and nearly died of fright when he felt Psyche's hand cover his own. He glanced quickly at her face, his heart pounding, and saw that her eyes were still closed. So she was still asleep? Eros arched an eyebrow, a sensual smirk twisting his lips. It seemed the girl was a bit of a wanton! How very… appealing. Well, if Psyche wanted to participate in her own pleasure, Eros wasn't going to stop her. Resuming his movements of his hand, he guided Psyche's fingers so that she was caressing herself while he continued to stroke her.

Psyche began to shake within a few moments and Eros was suddenly aware that not only was she about to reach fulfilment, she was also about to wake up. He intensified the contact on her womanhood further as she began to climax. As the flood of wetness surrounded Eros' fingers, he withdrew them and gently replaced them with her own, pressing down on them to guide them to the right place. He hoped that she would believe that her fulfilment was her own doing.

With a shaky sigh, he licked his fingers clean, marvelling to himself that she tasted as sweet as nectar. He sat beside her for a few moments, breathing heavily and trying to compose himself so that he would be able to complete his task. At length, when Eros felt that he had regained some semblance of control, he reached forward with his arrow and touched it to her side.

Psyche swam slowly in the place between unconsciousness and wakefulness. It was the place where you were no longer completely asleep, but you weren't quite awake either. She felt different from the other times when she'd made the long journey back from the realm of dreams. Mostly it was a silent journey, devoid of any physical feeling. This time, it felt as though she were being assailed with hot waves of… _something_ that made her quiver. The sensation had been gentle at first, like a caress that almost tickled. But it had slowly become more intense, like a heated pulsing that was coiling tighter and tighter with each passing moment. As she moved ever closer to consciousness, the feeling grew sharper and Psyche realised that it was coming from between her legs. All at once, she felt her body begin to shake in earnest and she knew instinctively that something was about to happen…

With a breathless, strangled cry of release, Psyche's eyes flew open. Eros' heart stuttered in his chest. She was staring straight at him. Could she _see_ him? He froze, unable to breathe, unable to move. If she could see him, he would be found out and the entire plan would be ruined. Unseen by Eros, the gold-tipped arrow he had pricked Psyche with slipped from his nerveless fingers and fell soundlessly towards the floor, impaling his bare foot. Upon impact, the arrow pulsated with golden light for a few moments and then disappeared.

After a few moments, Psyche blinked and her gaze slid away from him. So she hadn't seen him. He felt almost faint with relief. When the initial fright had faded, Eros took a closer look at her. If she was beautiful in her sleep, she was… _glorious_ when she was awake. She had eyes like polished sapphires that captured him and pinned him to the spot. Eros felt like he could drown in those eyes and it occurred to him that he wouldn't care if he did.

He watched with something akin to possessive fascination as Psyche sat up shakily, still trembling slightly as her orgasm faded. She withdrew her fingers from her womanhood and gazed at them in shock.

"W-what…" she started to stammer but her voice died. She sat for long moments and simply stared at her glistening fingers as though they were someone else's.

When Psyche finally haltingly brought her hand up to her face and hesitantly slipped her fingers into her mouth, Eros nearly came on the spot, stifling a needy groan. It was the combination of innocence and aroused curiosity on her face as she tasted herself that told Eros he was in serious trouble. He knew then that he could not carry out the task his mother had asked him to do. His only thought now was to counteract the damage he had done. Moving quickly, he retrieved the amber flask of sweet water. Then, unseen by Psyche, he proceeded to sprinkle it all over her beautiful face and shining hair.

When he was satisfied with his work, he stood back and contemplated what to do next. He had to do _something_. Aphrodite would no doubt find out eventually that he had not done as she had asked. When she did, it went without saying that she would come to do the job herself. That could be very, very bad for Psyche and her family. He had to come up with some way of getting Psyche out of her house and away from Aphrodite's eyes.

He observed Psyche rising from her bed on unstable legs with pure male satisfaction, knowing that he had given the girl her first orgasm. She slowly and unsteadily made her way across to her dressing table and sat down in front of the mirror. She passed her hand over her eyes and then promptly wobbled off the chair and onto the floor with a thump and a squeal. Eros burst out laughing, knowing that she couldn't hear him. It seemed that this perfect creature was a little bit clumsy after an orgasm! He couldn't help but find it endearing.

"My lady!"

Eros looked up sharply to see a woman, obviously some sort of attendant, come rushing into the apartment. Psyche looked up, her face flushed scarlet with embarrassment at being found like this. It would soon be all over the house. Then, no doubt, her mother and sisters would scold her thoroughly for her lack of grace. The handmaiden hurried to her mistress' side and helped her to her feet.

"Thank you Maia," Psyche said quietly, when she was standing once again. Her voice was slightly lower than was normal for a woman, but it also had a sweet and lilting quality. It reminded Eros of birdsong and ripples in water. He wouldn't mind in the least hearing it for the rest of his immortal life. It was then that Eros finally resolved to take the girl for himself. It was just a matter of doing so in a way that protected her from his mother's anger.

"Are you all right my lady?" the maid was asking in a concerned tone. "Are you unwell? Perhaps we should call a healer?"

"No, no Maia, I am quite well," Psyche assured her with a gentle smile. Such a beautiful smile, Eros thought. "I just had a strange… dream." Psyche certainly didn't think that sharing details of her experience with her handmaiden would be a good idea. It wasn't as if it had been a _bad_ experience—on the contrary, it had felt incredibly _good_—but… Psyche had a feeling that it was one of those things that women just didn't talk about.

All of a sudden, Eros had a brilliant idea. An idea that, if it worked, would be the answer to all of his problems. He would have Psyche as his wife and Aphrodite would have no idea. Turning away from the two women, he strode through the doors onto the balcony. Dropping into a crouch, he tensed his muscles, spread his snowy wings and sprang into the air, flying swiftly in the direction of Delphi. There was a certain insufferable braggart that he needed to visit.

It was just unfortunate that he was way too flustered to notice the missing arrow.

_**Author's Notes**_

_Please read and review or I won't know if I'm any good!_

_That was my first lime. Be gentle, it was difficult to write._

_I thank Homer (the bard, not the cartoon character) for his detailed descriptions of sacrificial ceremonies in The Odyssey. The book itself was of immeasurable help. Normally, sacrifices made to Poseidon occur at the beach and involve a sacred animal (Poseidon favours horses, cattle or oxen) being slaughtered._

_For those of you who don't know, a 'tempest' is an old term for a storm._

'_Poleis', again, is the plural form of 'polis' which means 'city-state'. These city-states were basically independent political units that controlled a limited amount of territory surrounding the state. Sparta, for example, controlled more than 3000 square miles of surrounding territory. _


	3. Chapter 3

_**Gold-tipped Arrow – A Rurouni Kenshin Fanfiction**_

_**By Rikkitsune**_

_THE CAST_

_Eros: Kenshin_

_Psyche: Kaoru_

_Aphrodite: Tomoe_

_Hephaistos: Akira_

_Zephyrus: Sanosuke_

_Zeus: Hiko_

_Demeter: Tae_

_Amphitrite: Misao_

_Poseidon: Aoshi_

_Invisible Attendants: Yahiko, Tsubame_

_Persephone: Tokio_

_Hades: Saitou_

_Chloris: Megumi_

_Ares: Enishi_

_Hera: Yumi_

_All other characters are of my own creating, except for their names, which are mostly plucked from Greek myths._

* * *

_Chapter Three! Wow, Chapter Three! I'm so excited! I hope you're all enjoying the fic as much as I am so far. It's not easy to write, but I get such a great feeling when I finally post a chapter._

**_Just to let you all know, I've cut the majority of the scene with Aphrodite and Ares. The whole thing was based on smut, therefore it's probably not suitable for FFN. With that being said, the scene in its entirety is actually an important part of the story and one I never intended to leave out. So, like I've mentioned before, the unabridged version of this story is available at Wish._**

_Thank you, once again to all the readers and reviewers, particularly those who have reviewed more than once. You know who you are. Oh, and a big 'thank you' to **Kyrene once blood roses** for her fabulous idea!_

_Let's get on with it then, shall we?_

_Many thanks to my beta reader Ice-Cool, who ruthlessly picks holes in all my plotlines. Where would I be without you?_

_WARNINGS: Still rated M. Not suitable for kiddies. Be warned._

_DISCLAIMER: I do not own Rurouni Kenshin and its characters, nor do I own the original story of Cupid and Psyche, the Greek Gods, or the myths that come with them. I also do not own any part of The Odyssey by Homer._

* * *

**CHAPTER THREE**

Eros walked confidently through the great golden doors of Apollo's temple in Delphi. He knew the God would be here, Apollo took a licentious pleasure in watching his priestesses move about the temple, dedicating their lives to serving him. Priestesses in the service of Apollo were generally taken to be maidens, forbidden from ever marrying or having lovers. This rule, however, didn't necessarily mean that all the priestesses remained virgins throughout their lives. It was common knowledge that Apollo frequently visited the beds of his priestesses during the night. It was a right and a privilege that only the God himself was able to enjoy. Consequently, there were many young children living in and around the temple that bore an uncanny resemblance to the golden-haired, blue eyed Archer. If a priestess was visited by Apollo, it was understood that, being _his _priestess, she could not refuse him. There had only been one woman known to actually refuse the God and the consequences had been tragic.

Cassandra had been a seer and was the daughter of Priam and Hecuba, the King and Queen of Troy. She had been earmarked as a future priestess of Apollo as a child, being endowed by the God with a powerful gift of prophecy. Apollo himself was said to love Cassandra, who served as a priestess in Apollo's Trojan temple later on in her life. Unfortunately, she refused Apollo's advances and he punished her with a curse, pronouncing that she was destined to prophesise only the truth for the rest of her life, but she would never be believed. Consequently, Cassandra had lived a wretched and tortured life, with everyone around her believing that she was mad. Among many other things, she prophesised the fall of Troy—facilitated by Helen, the Queen of Sparta and Cassandra's own brother Paris—as well as the design behind the infamous Trojan horse, but no one had listened to her. She had fled as the city burned, seeking refuge in the temple of Athena. She was raped by Greek soldiers in the temple and then given to Agamemnon, the King of Mycenae, as a spoil of war. What had happened to Cassandra after that, nobody really knew for sure. Some believed that she had met her end at the hands of Clytemnestra, Agamemnon's wife, who had taken her cousin Aegisthus as a lover in her husband's absence and murdered him upon his return. Others believed that Cassandra had survived the slaughter and fled to Colchis where she was taken in by her kin. Either way, the Greeks were punished severely for their desecration of the temple by Athena, who made sure to have large numbers of them killed after they sailed from Troy. Only a handful of them made it home alive.

"Apollo?" Eros called as he made his way into the main hall of the temple. He knew he had only to call the God once, Apollo would hear him and present himself when he was ready. The main hall was a large room with a vaulted ceiling, with walls panelled in beaten gold to represent both the God's physical colouring and his affiliation with the sun. The place was deserted and empty of furniture save for a larger than life idol of Apollo, captured in a deep-set lunge with a strung bow, the arrow notched and waiting to be released. The statue was carved painstakingly from white marble and generously adorned with golden accents. It stood against the back wall of the hall, raised on a platform strewn with flowers, softly flickering candles, small animal sacrifices and offerings of food and finely woven cloth.

Eros surveyed the portrayal of Apollo with a wry smile. It was a tall and muscular man, broad-shouldered with long, well-shaped limbs. The face was handsome and set into a look of relaxed concentration. The lips were full, the cheekbones high and the nose straight. The eyes were set wide and deeply into the face, giving a permanent look of deep thought. The hair was mid length, falling in a soft curl between the ear and the shoulder. A gold circlet rested on the crown of his head.

The statue resembled the arrogant fool perfectly; he must have 'inspired' the sculptor with the image. He wondered fleetingly if the artisan had been female.

"My word, if it isn't young Eros, come to pay his older cousin a visit!" Apollo exclaimed from behind him. The usually smug, drawling voice of the older God held a tinge of surprise. This is an unexpected visit, Apollo thought to himself. Eros, the baby God of passion. What was the little mischief maker doing _here?_ In Delphi?

Steeling himself, Eros prepared to turn around and meet his cousin's gaze. He knew that as soon as Apollo got a good look at his face, he would know everything. Everything that had already happened and everything that would happen later on. He always did. The reason Eros was visiting him in the first place was to see if his plan would work. He would need the help of the Delphian Oracle, after all. He wasn't too concerned about whether or not Apollo would be angry or bitter with him, since the Archer didn't know that it was Eros who was primarily responsible for the whole embarrassing fiasco with Daphne. Besides, that had been such a long time ago. Weeks! Even if Apollo had found out, he would surely be over it by now.

As Eros turned and met his gaze, Apollo's cerulean eyes narrowed. There was a swirling aura of prophecy surrounding the younger God, waiting to be seen and pronounced. So, the little red head had a purpose in coming to visit him after all. He should have suspected as much. With a sigh, Apollo closed his eyes and opened his mind to the vision.

A swift flickering of images and sounds washed through his consciousness. A young mortal girl—very beautiful but very lonely—with black hair and blue eyes. Psyche, her name was Psyche. She was standing on a balcony staring out across the ocean. He heard her thoughts, her wishes for someone to love her and care for her. He heard other people's voices, hailing her as more beautiful than the Goddess of Love herself. Then the voices were gone and Aphrodite was there. She was angry, angry at Psyche. She was forming a plan to completely destroy the girl's life. Eros was the one who was supposed to do it for her. Then he saw Eros with the girl. She was asleep, with the red head leaning over her. He could feel Eros's fascination with the girl. He saw Eros bring her to orgasm, and the arrow falling from his fingers and catching him in the foot. Then Apollo heard his younger cousin's thoughts, how he wanted to take the girl as his wife and was seeking to protect her from his mother's anger. As each part of the vision made way for the next, it would dissolve into a thin golden strand of light, no thicker than his finger. The strands would coil around one another, creating something like a glittering braid at the borders of his vision.

Then the air seemed to pulse with anticipation and Apollo knew that he was about to see the future. He saw Zephyrus, laughing and clasping hands with Eros, then a swish of long black hair and the scent of fresh flowers. He heard the rumble of the ocean, a laughing feminine voice and the satisfied sigh of Aphrodite. He heard the Oracle making a proclamation, then saw Psyche being left alone at dusk in the long grass. He saw her sleeping with a happy smile on her face and then he saw Eros' face under a blue sky, happier and more carefree than he had ever seen it. He saw the backs of two women, one tall, one short, with dark hair and white arms. There was a golden lamp and a dagger, then all of a sudden, the blue sky was black and there was the sound of crying. There was an almost tangible sense of grief and longing and terrible weariness. Then, the faces of Demeter, Amphitrite and Persephone flashed through his mind, as well as the unmistakeable sound of a thunderbolt. He saw Psyche asleep again, then the unmistakable scent of ambrosia reached his nose. All at once, the blackness lifted and he could see Psyche running ahead of him in slow motion, her veils trailing behind her. She was looking at him over her shoulder with sultry eyes. As the image of the girl faded, Apollo heard screaming and then the distant wails of a young child. Then, there was darkness and silence. He watched all the thin golden strands untwist and swirl through the darkness, coming to rest around his arms and torso. As soon as he spoke, the strands would be dispersed like a spell and there would be no way to undo or avoid what would happen.

Opening his eyes, Apollo gazed at Eros with the light of his visions coiling around his form like glimmering golden serpents. Eros stared back with his heart in his mouth, knowing that Apollo had seen _something_ and was about to tell him whether his plan would succeed or fail.

"Well, I now know why you're here," Apollo said smoothly. "You're after that mortal girl Psyche and you're planning to take her from her home so you can hide her from your mother."

Eros nodded, not surprised in the least that Apollo knew all the details. It was his job, after all. "What did you see?" he asked.

Apollo's firm lips curved into a sly smile. "I can't tell you that now, can I?" he purred. "It would ruin the whole thing. Besides, if I tell you everything that's going to happen now, it's likely that'll you'll try to change things, which will create discord. No one can escape their destiny."

Eros huffed a sigh, feeling a bit frustrated. "Will she be all right?" he asked.

Apollo shrugged noncommittally. "I can't tell you either way. What I _can _tell you is to go ahead with your plan. It is the course of action you are meant to take."

"I'll need your help," Eros told him.

"I know," Apollo answered. "And I _will _help you, because that is what I am meant to do. It seems that I will be playing an important role in this particular story."

"What will you do?" Eros asked.

"I will be sending a proclamation to the priestesses of the Oracle once you have your affairs in order," Apollo replied smoothly.

"What are you going to say?"

Apollo pinned Eros with a glare. "You're just full of questions this day aren't you cousin? Well, I'm not going to give you the answer. I have already told you everything that you need to know. You should go now, I know you have many arrangements to make."

Irked, Eros turned to leave. "Apollo," he said over his shoulder. "How should I—"

"Don't give it any more thought," Apollo cut him off. "I will know when everything is ready and that's when the proclamation will be given. You don't need to come here again."

"Very well." Eros was relieved. He suddenly remembered his manners. "Thank you, cousin," he added, flashing the golden-haired God a quick grin.

"It is no trouble," Apollo answered nonchalantly, smiling gently. "I also know what it is like to be in love. Now go." He made a shooing motion with his hand.

As Eros left, Apollo's smile faded to be replaced with a look of faint worry. If the red head thought this whole affair was going to go smoothly, he was gravely mistaken. Even from his fragmented vision Apollo could tell that Eros had underestimated the importance of the emotions of the people around him. Hopefully the consequences of his mistake would not be too severe, for him or for Psyche. He vaguely wondered how such a beautiful young thing like her had lived this long and hadn't received a visit from Zeus. The old man must be losing his touch.

* * *

Thrace was the furthermost polis between Greece and the Phrygian coast. Zephyrus, Boreas and Notus lived far away—not only from the other poleis but from the rest of Thrace as well—at the top of the windswept mountains between Thrace and Macedonia in a magnificent grey palace carved into the stone. The household was currently celebrating the arrival of Boreas and Orithyia's twin sons, Calais and Zetes. Much to the horror of Boreas, Orithyia had already been well into her labour when they had returned from Poseidon's feast ceremony. The boys had been birthed a short time later without too much difficulty and now they lay, fat, pink and cherub-like, suckling at their mother's breast. It had certainly been a sight to see Boreas, normally so gruff, surly and adamantly masculine, pacing up and down in front of Orithyia's apartment, wringing his hands and fretting like an anxious woman. 

Zephyrus folded his arms across his upraised knee and rested his chin on his forearm, watching the flickering rays of the late afternoon sun from his spot on top of the palace roof. He pondered about what it would be like to have a woman that he cared so much for that he would make a complete fool of himself worrying over her welfare. Predictably, his thoughts swung towards Chloris, as they usually did whenever he contemplated women. She had most definitely been the woman that got away, hiding herself in the Elysian Fields where he couldn't reach her. He often wondered whether Chloris truly didn't like him or whether she was simply playing hard to get. He closed his eyes briefly and recalled her delicate oval shaped face, cinnamon eyes, red lips and silky black hair. Chloris' skin was milk white and smooth, her legs were long and shapely and the curves of her breasts and derriere were generous and looked as though they were made for his hands. There was also the enticing scent of flowers that seemed to follow her wherever she went. But most of all, Zephyrus liked the sound of Chloris' voice. It was sweet, laughing and girlish, but with a razor sharp edge that often sent fully grown Gods running for cover. Ah yes, Chloris was a beauty. He would have her, it was just a matter of when. First, he needed to find out when she'd be leaving the Fields next to come to Olympus. That would be his next opportunity.

Opening his eyes again, Zephyrus was surprised to see the unmistakeable outline of his good friend Eros against the soft yellow sky. What was he doing all the way over here in Thrace? Unfolding his long, lean frame, Zephyrus stood and hailed the God from the roof. Eros spotted him and veered towards him. When he came close enough, he made a graceful landing, folding his white wings snugly against his shoulder blades. Zephyrus grinned. Eros always made such a big production of stretching and folding those girlish little white wings of his. Zephyrus' wings, by contrast, were three times the size and a shimmering bronze colour, like eagle feathers. This was a fact that Zephyrus liked to point out as often as possible and comparing their wings had always been a sore point with Eros and a source of much glee for the spiky-haired West Wind. Eros glanced across, saw Zephyrus' expression and shot him a petulant glare.

"It's such a pleasant surprise to see you Eros, what are you doing all the way over here in Thrace?" Zephyrus chuckled, brushing off Eros' obvious irritation and clasping his friend's hand in a gesture of welcome.

"Well, I needed to have a talk with you about something," Eros answered, getting straight to the point. He really didn't feel the need to waste time with pleasantries, since they already knew each other so well. "Something important. Do you have time?"

Zephyrus' smile faded as he took in Eros' expression. There was something that seemed to have changed in his friend's face, almost as though he had aged considerably since the last time they saw each other. The carefree, slightly dopey expression he normally wore had been replaced with a new seriousness and determination he hadn't seen before. Evidently, whatever it was he wanted to talk about, it was extremely serious. The West Wind hoped that it wasn't something _gravely _serious, like he'd gotten himself into more trouble than he could handle.

Much later, Zephyrus would look back and contemplate the irony of _that_ particular thought.

"Well, if it's serious, did you want to stay up here so we can talk in private?" Zephyrus offered.

"That's a good idea," Eros agreed in relief, sitting down on the roof and making himself comfortable. He had been concerned that his friend would think he was joking around and make the whole business twice as difficult as it needed to be. Zephyrus hunkered down next to him, lying on his back with his hands tucked underneath his head. He stared up at the sky like he didn't have a care in the world. Eros shot his friend a sideways glance, wondering how it was that he could always look so incredibly relaxed, whether he be lounging on silk cushions or on roof tiles.

"All right," Eros began after staring out at the sun-lit landscape for an indeterminate period. "I've come to talk to you because I need your help."

Zephyrus merely turned his head to the side and observed the God with patient brown eyes. It was all too common for Eros to come to him asking for help in some venture or other.

"There's this girl… woman… female," Eros said, trying to decide in his own mind what Psyche really was. He hadn't really been able to gauge how old she was, but she looked fairly young, at least compared to him. He would have hazarded a guess between fifteen and nineteen summers.

Zephyrus' eyebrows disappeared into his hairline. A woman? Now this was interesting! Eros wasn't usually the type to chase after the opposite sex. He wondered what nymph or Goddess had been appealing enough to catch his eye.

"She's a… mortal," Eros continued, smirking as Zephyrus' eyes nearly bugged out of his head in surprise.

"A _mortal!_" Zephyrus spluttered. "Everyone knows that meddling with mortals is more trouble than it's worth! What are you playing at Eros?"

"That's just it, I'm not playing," Eros answered smoothly. "I think I'm in love with her."

Zephyrus' mouth dropped open. "No way. You can't be serious."

"I _am_ serious," Eros snapped, just a hint of amber leaking into his violet gaze. "Is it so hard to believe that when your own brother carried off and ravished a mortal woman?"

"What's her name? Do you even know?" Zephyrus shot back, quickly steering the subject away from Boreas and his exploits.

"Of course I do!" Eros replied irritably. "It's Psyche. She's a princess in Ithaca."

"Oh… oh no…" All the blood drained from Zephyrus' sun-browned face. "Surely you jest?"

"No," Eros said simply, his annoyance forgotten in favour of alarm at the look on his friend's face. "What's wrong?"

"I know the girl," Zephyrus told him. "I saw her today in fact, at Poseidon's feast day in Ithaca. She's quite famous you know. Her beauty has created much of a stir among the Olympians, particularly with your mother."

"Yes, I know," Eros agreed, greatly surprised that the West Wind had already seen Psyche. "Aphrodite summoned me to her with the task of avenging her divine honour. It seems that Psyche has been worshipped by the mortals in her place."

"Yes, Boreas, Notus and I were talking about that. We were wondering when Aphrodite would make her move. Surely she wouldn't have let such actions go unpunished."

"She wanted me to make sure that Psyche fell in love with some miserable unworthy creature in order to shame her and bring dishonour on the Ithacan royal family," Eros told him with a sigh.

"Hmm, I would have expected something like that of Aphrodite, she is such a jealous woman." Zephyrus twisted a strand of his spiky brown hair around one of his fingers and tugged it sharply. "So, what did you do?"

"I went to the Ithacan palace and found Psyche's apartment," Eros answered. "I was going to wait until she retired for the night but she was already asleep when I arrived. I went over to her to do what Aphrodite had asked me, except… I couldn't."

"Why not?" Zephyrus asked. "That's not like you at all Eros, you love that sort of thing."

"I know, I know," Eros conceded. "But I was just so… struck by her. She was so beautiful. When I looked at her, I felt like she was the first woman to _really_ call to me as a man. It was so strange. All of a sudden, I turned into an uncontrollable animal! I even—" Eros broke off, feeling the colour start to creep up his neck. He'd been about to blurt out that he'd pleasured the girl with his fingers while she slept.

Zephyrus' eyes widened. Surely Eros wouldn't! "What did you do?" the question came out almost as a squeak. "You didn't… you didn't"—he lowered his voice—"you didn't… _rape_ her did you?"

"No!" Eros protested hotly, blushing in full force now. "I just… used my hands."

Zephyrus made a sound that was somewhere between a gasp and a laugh. "So you… _interfered _with her while she was asleep?" he asked. He was too afraid to ask for further details.

"I suppose you could say it like that," Eros answered, frowning at the vulgar terminology his friend was using. "Anyway, I couldn't put the curse on her and I eventually decided that I wanted her as my wife. Now, it's just a matter of taking her in a way that keeps Aphrodite in the dark."

"So _that's _what you want my help with," Zephyrus said, comprehension dawning. "You want me to kidnap her?"

"That won't be necessary," Eros answered with a sly smile. "You see, I've just been to visit Apollo."

The West Wind whistled softly in appreciation. "I see you've done some research then. Did that conceited simpleton tell you anything good?"

"Only to do what I was planning to do all along," Eros replied.

"Honestly, what's the point in visiting an Oracle when they don't even tell you anything?" Zephyrus huffed. "Sometimes I wonder if he's the real thing."

"He is," Eros said dismissively. "Even though we don't like him. Anyway, he told me that the Oracle will be making a proclamation once I have all my preparations taken care of."

"Preparations?"

"Well, I needed to come and talk to you, I'm also about to go and visit Chloris," Eros told him. Zephyrus felt a swift thrill in his stomach at the mention of Chloris' name, not unlike the sensation you felt when you folded your wings back while flying and simply fell through the air. "I also need to set up a marital home and procure clothing, attendants, all that sort of thing. I want to take her somewhere she'll be comfortable and well looked after."

"I see. So, what _is_ it you need me for?"

"I need you for the most important job of all, taking Psyche to her new home. It's going to be in a place you can only access with a pair of wings."

"You mean—"

"Yes."

"Oh. Well, that could work. But, are you sure about this Eros?"

"I'm positive. Will you help me?"

At length, Zephyrus sat up and gave his friend a knowing smile. "When have I ever turned down the opportunity to annoy other people?" he asked cheekily.

"Thanks," Eros laughed. He leaned across and gave Zephyrus a one-armed hug, then stood up, meticulously stretching out his wings. Zephyrus grinned. So vain…

"Leaving so soon? You won't even have a cup of wine with me?"

"You don't have to worry about being hospitable Zephyrus, it's only me!" Eros said, waving a hand. "Besides, I want to get everything arranged as soon as I possibly can. I need to get her hidden away safely before Aphrodite decides to check up on my progress."

"Fair enough. I won't detain you then. Good luck."

"Thanks." Eros was gone in a rush of air, leaving Zephyrus with his thoughts.

I should replace Apollo as the Delphian Oracle, he told himself. I just _knew _I'd be seeing that girl again. He stood up and casually dropped off the roof, fully intending to go and visit with his nephews a little before Eros came back to take him away. He had a feeling he was going to be absent from his home for a while.

* * *

The Elysian Fields were a beautiful place to live. They were suspended in eternal springtime, with the mild golden fingers of Helios caressing lush, flower-filled green meadows, gently sloping hills and rushing streams. There were numerous trees, some merely providing shade, others heavily laden with fruit, growing tall and majestic near the water's edge. Birds of assorted colours sailed on the sweet breezes, filling the air with their carefree song. 

The Elysian Fields were the place that all mortals dreamed of going upon their deaths. It was the destination that was reserved for only the mortals most favoured and beloved of the Gods and Goddesses. Such a mortal was the famed Thracian musician Orpheus, who resided in the Elysian Fields with his wife Eurydice.

Orpheus had been a singer and a lyre player, famous throughout all of Greece. He was said to be the son of Calliope, the Muse of epic poetry. His wife was a beautiful nymph named Eurydice and the pair were said to be totally in love and devoted only to each other. They would wander the lands together making beautiful music, blissfully happy in each other's presence. Then one day, Eurydice was bitten by a snake and she died, her soul leaving her body and sinking through the ground to the Underworld. Orpheus was devastated and completely desolate without her. His music lost its joy and he was consumed by misery. He eventually stopped singing and playing altogether.

Eventually, in a desperate bid to see his wife again, Orpheus decided to make the perilous journey to the Underworld to bring Eurydice home. Charon, the ferryman who was responsible for carrying souls across the River Styx to the Underworld, initially refused to take Orpheus into his boat because he was still alive. However, Orpheus managed to charm the ferryman, singing of his great love and longing for Eurydice. Once Charon had taken Orpheus across the river, he was confronted by Cerberus, the frightening three-headed dog who was responsible for guarding the gate to Hades' kingdom. Once again, Orpheus used his music as a communicative tool and Cerberus was sympathetic enough to let him pass. Orpheus gained an audience with Hades and Persephone, the King and Queen of the Underworld, entreating them through song to let him take Eurydice back home. Even they had been moved by his miraculous music and they had granted Orpheus' request on one condition. Eurydice was to walk behind him out of the Underworld and Orpheus was strictly forbidden to look back at her until they reached the mortal world once again. But as Charon had ferried them back across the River, Orpheus had been consumed with the longing to look at his wife again. As the sunlight began to filter through the darkness, he had quickly peeked over his shoulder. Eurydice had turned back into a shade and was swallowed up by the darkness forever.

Grief-stricken, Orpheus had wandered across Greece without any real purpose. As it happened, his fate was to die, torn apart by Thracian maenads, the female worshippers of Dionysus. His head was cast into a river, calling for his beloved Eurydice and as it floated downstream. While his head remained in the mortal world and became an oracle, Orpheus' soul was sent to the Elysian Fields, where Eurydice was waiting for him. They had since dwelled there in eternal happiness.

It was a nice story. Thankfully, it had a happy ending. Smiling to herself, Chloris wandered gracefully through the long swaying grass, gathering flowers deftly with her slender white hands. She loved flowers more than anything else and never ventured far without carrying at least one bouquet of them in her arms. She most often wore them woven through her hair and plaited through the clasps of her pale lilac chiton.

As a limoniad, or a nymph of the meadows, she was happiest living here in the Elysian Fields, surrounded by flowers that never stopped blooming. While there were a countless number of people sharing this place with her, Chloris generally avoided the company of other people, preferring to be alone. She only had a handful of very close friends and they mostly lived in the lands around Olympus. Every once in a while, Chloris would venture back to Olympus to see her friends if there was a large festival being held. 'Festival' was often synonymous with 'drunken orgy' for most of the Gods and Goddesses and Chloris had no objection to most of the carnal activities that took place. She was not impervious to the lure of the opposite sex, but she had not yet met a man that was worth permanently leaving her beloved Elysian Fields for. Unbidden, the image of spiky brown hair, shining bronze wings and knowing brown eyes filtered into her mind. Furious with herself, Chloris banished the thought with vicious force. What in Hades was she thinking of _him_ for?

Chloris stopped walking to thread a gardenia into her glossy black hair, her warm cinnamon eyes narrowed in irritation.

"I see you're looking as radiant as ever Chloris," a deep, thoroughly attractive male voice said from behind her, completely banishing her aggravation. Chloris would know that voice anywhere. Turning with a happy smile, she launched herself into Eros' arms, planting an affectionate kiss on his scarred cheek.

Eros was one of her oldest and dearest friends. They had met a long time ago at one of Aphrodite's festivals. Since Chloris was a nymph, one of the many personifications of natural beauty, she had been expected to attend along with all the other nymphs and pay tribute to Aphrodite, who considered herself to be the most beautiful creature in the entire world. Chloris had gone to the feast, albeit grudgingly. She had always thought that Aphrodite was incredibly vain and conceited, with no real understanding of the true glory of nature. She held herself above everyone and everything in terms of beauty and physical charm and while she was fairly lovely on the outside, Chloris privately thought that the Goddess' _personality_ was the _ugliest_ thing in existence. She behaved like a spoiled brat, throwing tantrums and making the other Olympians' lives miserable in order to get her own way. Additionally, she used human hearts and emotions as her playthings with as much delicacy as swinging a large, double-headed axe. Her son, Eros, was reportedly her errand boy, gleefully participating in stirring up trouble and drama among the mortals.

As Chloris had reclined sullenly on a cushion in the corner of the feasting hall, mulling over her dislike for the Goddess of love, a red haired vision of masculine sensuality had appeared and thrown himself down next to her. He had offered her a cup of wine with a knee-shaking grin and commented that she looked as though she needed to relax. To Chloris' shock, the man had introduced himself as Eros, Aphrodite's son. He was nothing like she had expected. She had expected an arrogant, spoilt, bad tempered little brat, not this charming and utterly delectable specimen.

With her preconceptions of the God shaken, the nymph had decided to give the gorgeous red head the benefit of the doubt. They had talked for a while, with him being unfailingly polite and attentive while Chloris became thoroughly intoxicated by both him and the copious amounts of wine she was consuming. Eros had charmed her out of her clothes and into his bed in a matter of hours, the sex being so incredible that she had never forgotten it. By the time their brief affair had run its course, Eros and Chloris had developed a respect for each other that grew into a solid friendship over the years, even after their sexual interest in each other had waned.

"It has been too long Eros," Chloris told him as he returned her embrace. "What brings you to the Elysian Fields?"

"Well petal, I hate to be abrupt, but I should probably get straight to the point. I have a favour to ask of you," Eros replied, watching as shrewdness crept into his friend's smile. Chloris was the most cunning female he had ever known and that was the precise reason he was asking for her help. Not to mention she was a talented healer. It was a gift bestowed on most nymphs, but with Chloris it was more well-developed than normal.

"It's a woman isn't it?" Chloris asked, grinning when Eros's expression turned sheepish. A direct hit.

"You have always been able to read my face too easily," he laughed. "Come and sit with me and I'll tell you everything."

The pair strolled over to the river bank, finding a nice shady patch under a tree where the grass was thick and long. They settled down, arranging themselves so that Eros was leaning comfortably back against the trunk of the tree while Chloris lay on her back along the length of his body, fitting herself snugly between his legs. Such intimate contact was relatively normal for the two of them, even though they hadn't been lovers for a long time. Chloris found a great deal of comfort in being close to Eros, so she snuggled up to him as often as she possibly could. Eros, for his part, loved being so tactile with a beautiful woman such as Chloris and not having any sexual demands placed on him. He was never able to truly enjoy any physical affection from his mother because there was always a price to pay for getting too close.

"So," Chloris prompted him, running her hand lightly down his thigh. "You need my help?"

"Yes," Eros answered, inhaling Chloris' scent of fresh flowers and grass. The smell never failed to relax him and sure enough, he could feel the tenseness in his shoulders start to loosen. He lifted a tanned hand and began to run his fingers through her long black hair. He knew that Chloris loved having her hair stroked and he desperately wanted to get her in a sympathetic mood. "Well, you were right, there is a woman involved. Her name is Psyche. She is a mortal."

Chloris stayed silent although she wanted to pepper him with questions. As far as she knew, Eros hadn't taken a lover since they had been together. He had seemed to lose his interest in women, focusing on playing pranks and raising Hades instead. What had caused such a sudden change in him? And a _mortal? _What in Zeus' thunderbolts would Eros want with a mortal woman?

"Psyche is an exceptionally beautiful woman," Eros continued. Ah, so that was it then, Chloris thought. The Gods were so easily swayed by a pretty face. "The people in Psyche's village worship her in the place of my mother, which made Aphrodite angry. She decided to punish Psyche so she summoned me and asked me to make her fall in love with the poorest, ugliest man I could find."

"Typical," Chloris snorted disgustedly. Eros ignored the comment, knowing full well what the nymph thought of his mother.

"I went to her home to do as she asked," Eros went on, "but once I saw Psyche, I just… couldn't do it."

"Why not?" Chloris asked. It was fairly uncharacteristic of Eros to lose his nerve, particularly where causing trouble was involved.

"I just… I just looked at her—she was asleep—and I thought that it was unfair what Aphrodite wanted to do to her. She was so beautiful and a complete innocent."

"What happened then?" Chloris asked. Eros blushed a little, glad his friend had her back facing him. After Zephyrus' reaction, he certainly didn't want to go into explicit detail about what he had done to Psyche while she slept.

"I watched her for a little while and I eventually decided that I wanted her as my wife."

Chloris knew there was more to the story but he was choosing not to tell her. Oh well, she thought. If they end up getting married I can always ask Psyche what happened. She held her tongue.

"The problem is, if my mother finds out what's happened she'll want retribution," Eros said. "I don't want Psyche or her family to be harmed because of me. So, I need to get Psyche away from her house and hidden somewhere that I can be with her but where Aphrodite can't find her."

"You have that palace that you father gave you!" Chloris blurted out. What a great idea! It was perfect! "You know, that one in the clouds! Your mother can't get to it, remember?"

Eros grinned, pleased that her mind was running along the same lines as his. Ares had given his son a small palace in a hidden location as a present when he had reached manhood. In a most interesting twist, Ares had informed Eros that Aphrodite had no way of locating or entering the place unless Eros took her there himself. Eros often wondered if Ares knew about Aphrodite's incestuous tendencies towards her son and was trying to provide him with a reprieve.

"Yes," Eros answered Chloris. "That's the exact place I had in mind."

"So, what do you need me for?" Chloris asked.

"I've already been to visit Apollo and Zephyrus," Eros replied. Chloris groaned loudly as Zephyrus' name was mentioned. That great brute harassed her at every opportunity he got. He was one of the main reasons she was living in the Elysian Fields, he couldn't reach her here.

"I know you don't like Zephyrus, but can't you just be civil for my sake?" Eros beseeched the nymph. Chloris climbed out of his embrace and faced him with a fierce glint in her eye. "What do you need me for?" she repeated.

"I need you to stay at my palace for a while," Eros told her. "For Psyche's sake. She's probably going to be lonely and with what I have planned, she'll probably need all the company she can get."

"What's in it for me?" Chloris asked suspiciously.

"I love you?" Eros answered with one of his bone-melting grins. He sat up and scooped her protesting form into his lap, cuddling her against his chest. "Please Chloris," he pleaded into her hair. "This is really important to me."

Oh, there was no _way _she could win if he resorted to pleading. Damn him. She was such a soft touch and he knew it. Knowing with absolute certainty that she was going to regret it, she nodded her head.

"Thank you," Eros said softly, placing a grateful kiss on the crown of her head. "We need to leave as soon as possible, since I'll need your help getting everything ready. Can you come with me now?"

Chloris stood up and straightened her robes. "Let me just pick a few flowers," she answered with a regretful sigh. "I'm going to miss them."

* * *

Aphrodite lay, collapsed underneath Ares in a sweaty tangle of limbs. This particular encounter had been one of their more intense and it was taking some time for her to catch her breath. 

She'd summoned Ares to her boudoir shortly after sending Eros to fix that conceited little mortal girl, Psyche. Ares had made her wait of course, he always did. He'd eventually appeared next to her window, just when she'd thought that he wouldn't come and had taken matters into her own hands. Literally.

They'd watched each other for long moments as Aphrodite lay naked on her bed, pleasuring herself with her hands. Aphrodite had felt no shame or embarrassment whatsoever, meeting Ares' burning blue-green gaze with an intense look of her own as she continued the movements of her fingers. Abruptly, Ares' control had snapped and he had crossed the room with long strides, unfastening and discarding his clothing as he went.

After they had both satisfied the initial, frantic need several times over, Ares had commented that they really shouldn't leave such a long time between their visits. Since that encounter, Ares had taken to visiting her every day. Aphrodite certainly hadn't complained. Hephaistos was such a lacklustre alternative and he had always preferred his forge to her company anyway.

After lying together for a while, basking in the afterglow of their lovemaking, Ares gently disentangled himself and stood up. Aphrodite watched him dress with lazy contentment.

"Leaving so soon?" she asked.

"You forget, my love, that I am an extremely busy Olympian," Ares replied. Aphrodite stretched sensuously and smirked when the God's eyes were drawn to the movement. No matter how many times he had her, he always seemed to want more.

"When will I expect to see you again?" she asked as Ares finished fastening the clasps on his armour.

"Within the next day or two," Ares answered. He grinned at her, taking in the vivid red marks on her arms and legs. "Maybe two days. I need to give you some time to recover after all."

"That is true." Aphrodite climbed off the bed and came to stand in front of him, completely unabashed at her nakedness. They kissed, long and passionately, then Ares was gone. The raven haired Goddess fell back onto her bed with a sigh. She was exhausted. She always expended so much energy when she was having sex with Ares.

As she lay quietly, her thoughts turned to her son Eros. She hadn't seen him in quite a while, not since she had sent him on that little errand for her. He had sent her a message to say that things were going well but hadn't come to see her personally. Ordinarily, she would be annoyed, thinking that perhaps he had taken a lover and had no time to visit her anymore. Her feelings for her son were always tangled up with jealousy in one way or another. For example, just the thought of Eros taking a lover was enough to put her in an ill temper, considering that he never failed to refuse her.

But now, she didn't give his absence much thought. She knew how much effort Eros put into his pranks and she assumed that he was busy making sure everything would turn out exactly how she had wanted. Besides that, she was busy seeing Ares every day.

Perhaps she would call Eros to her when she wasn't feeling so dreadfully worn out. She had a reputation to uphold after all and she didn't want anyone to find out that she had met her sexual match in the God of War.

* * *

It had been a whole month since Poseidon's feast day. In that time, Phaedra's wedding to the Prince of Cephallenia had been and gone. Psyche had been one of Phaedra's bridesmaids, which upon reflection was quite a dangerous job. It was the specific duty of the bridesmaids to protect the bride from evil spirits and people with nefarious plans for the bride and groom. This meant that Psyche and the other bridesmaids had accompanied the bride-to-be on her journey to the temple on the days before the _gamos_ as decoys. Each bridesmaid wore a dress and hairstyle identical to the bride so that any evil spirits or rejected suitors would be at a loss as to which maiden to target. There was a saying among the women that if you were a bridesmaid three times, you lost your purity through being exposed to evil spirits and became unfit to be a bride. The only way to remedy the taint was to be a bridesmaid seven times, which reversed the damage and restored the maiden's purity. Psyche, for her part, was thankful that she only had two sisters. 

As far as tidings of her own marriage went, there had still been no offers made. She had discovered the truth first-hand when Psyche's mother and father had called her to them a couple of weeks ago, wishing to have speech with her about the subject.

"Your father and I wanted to talk to you about when you get married," her mother had begun, guiding Psyche to a plush chair in front of the hearth in her father's study. The raven-haired girl had taken her seat uncertainly, not sure whether she was going to like this discussion.

"We wanted to let you know that even though Phaedra and Pasiphae are spoken for, we have not yet received any offers of marriage for you."

Psyche had hung her head, the words hurting her more than they should have. Why would no one come for her? Why? Psyche was so sick of her so-called beauty that, while procuring an abundance of flattery, had failed to awaken love. In that moment she had wished with all her heart to possess normal looks like those of her sisters, perhaps then she could do her part to bring honour to her family.

"All is not lost yet my dear," the soft voice of her father had Psyche looking up, her eyes bright with unshed tears of misery and frustration. He had smiled gently at her, a smile so like her own. "We have sent a messenger this morn to Delphi to consult the Oracle."

"The Oracle?" Psyche had been confused. "Why?"

"Your father and I are afraid that we may have somehow incurred the wrath of the Gods," her mother had said carefully. "We are fearful that we are somehow being punished for a crime we are not aware of."

Upon hearing these words, Psyche's stomach had clenched painfully. She had an awful hunch that she knew exactly what she was being punished for. She fearfully recalled the words of Poseidon: _Take heed of our words mortal, and beware. The Goddess' eyes are upon you. Without direct appeasement, none can escape her wrath. _

Perhaps the wrath of the Goddess was already upon her, she just didn't know it yet.

Despite her fears, Psyche had said nothing to her parents and they had sent her back to her apartments with the promise that she would be informed of any tidings from the Oracle. It had been some time since then, but it was a long journey from Ithaca to Delphi and the royal household wasn't expecting the messenger to return for another few days at least.

Today was Pasiphae's _gamos_, the day she would finally be given in marriage to her betrothed. Psyche, once again, was a bridesmaid. The day before had been Pasiphae's _proaulia_. The _proaulia_ was the day that the bride-to-be would make sacrifices to various Goddesses in order to win their favour. This was to ensure that the transition of the woman from an unmarried ward under her father's charge to a married womanunder her new husband's charge would go smoothly. The most common Goddesses to make sacrifices to during the _proaulia_ were Artemis, Hera and Aphrodite. A woman would make an offering of money and locks of her hair to Artemis in the hope that the Goddess would ease her passage from virginity. She would also sacrifice her childhood clothing and toys to Hera and Aphrodite, signifying the entry into the realm of womanhood, with childhood being left behind. Prayers would be made to Hera as the exemplar of the divine bride and to Aphrodite for a loving marriage, as well as a fruitful one.

The day began with the bridal party rising at dawn to see to Pasiphae's needs. The wedding banquet would commence just before noon and preparing the bride-to-be would take hours. The first item on the agenda was a special nuptial bath for Pasiphae in the women's quarters. When everything was ready, Pasiphae was roused and led to the bath, where she slid into the steaming water with a sigh of gratitude. The bath water had been scented with jasmine oil and rose petals in order to soften and perfume her skin for her husband's enjoyment and Pasiphae eventually emerged clean and fragrant. The young daughter of one of the female servants had been given the important job of carrying the special jug with the bath water that had been specially drawn from a spring near the royal house. The purpose behind this was that the youth and innocence of the child would provide a purification for Pasiphae and help to induce her fertility.

After the bath, Psyche, her mother and a handful of handmaidens entered the bathing chamber and helped Pasiphae to dress. Today she was wearing a chiton of the richest and most elaborate cloth, in order to demonstrate the wealth of the Ithacan royal family. The rectangular length of fine silk had been brought to Ithaca from Asia Minor by travelling merchants some years ago and Psyche's mother had bought it, enamoured with the delicacy and quality of it. She had put it away, fully intending to make it into a wedding outfit for one of her daughters. Phaedra's wedding gown had been crafted out of a bolt of vibrant ocean blue silk that had been passed down to the women of her husband's family for at least eight generations. Psyche's mother had been so disappointed that she hadn't been able to use the special silk she had found, but now she had her opportunity. Psyche had wondered bitterly whether her mother had bothered to put any pretty cloth aside for her wedding and decided that she probably hadn't, since she was obviously a lost cause that no man would ever marry.

Pasiphae was wearing the silk wrapped around her body in the feminine Ionic style, with the top edges of the rectangle being fastened with tiny golden pins, so as to give a greater opportunity for the display of the chains of gold and amethyst beads adorning her neck. She wore fine sandals of brown leather embellished with gold threads. A belt of fine golden chain was wound high on her waist, just under her breasts in order to gather the chiton in and emphasise the curves of her chest and hips. The silk itself was of deep amethyst purple, with tiny hand beaten square plates of gold carefully twisted into the fabric to create a shimmering effect upon movement. It was simply beautiful and Psyche couldn't help feeling a little envious as she watched the handmaidens carefully applying charcoal and rouge to Pasiphae's eyes, lips and cheeks.

Psyche herself had been carefully dressed by her mother that morning in order to avoid drawing attention away from her sister on her wedding day. She wore a chiton fashioned in the basic, less flattering Doric style, fastened at her shoulders with bulky, open bronze pins. The material was a simple rectangle of finely woven wool, dyed a plain, inconspicuous shade of green with a discreet pattern in silver thread around the edges. Her hair had been pulled back from her face, coiled against the back of her head and held in place with an unadorned silver diadem. She wore no other jewellery, no make up on her face and her feet were clad in austere brown leather sandals.

Psyche finished clasping the last golden pin into place on her sister's shoulder and then stood back as her mother draped the long veil over Pasiphae's head, the sheer yellow material obscuring all but the bride-to-be's outline from view. There was very little to no conversation throughout the whole period. Since everyone present was so focussed on performing their tasks correctly, the majority of their concentration was bent towards employing every effort to making Pasiphae look beautiful for her husband.

By the time the dressing ceremony was over it was approximately half an hour before noon. Pasiphae and the other women made the journey from the women's quarters to the banquet hall, where her husband-to-be was waiting, along with the rest of their respective families. When they arrived, the women took their place at the long table on one side of the room, while the men remained at their table on the other side. Psyche did her best not to daydream as Pasiphae and her groom made lengthy offerings to the gods of marriage. Since when had she been so utterly impious? With Poseidon's cautionary words ringing in her ears, she forced herself to focus on the ceremony being conducted around her.

When the wedding feast finally began, Psyche picked at her food without much appetite. She felt nervous and isolated. She had been warned the previous day in no uncertain terms by Pasiphae not to monopolise the attention that was due to her as the bride. Her older sister had spoken to Psyche as if she believed that she enjoyed the constant observance. That in itself was highly insulting.

Not wanting to displease her sister or her parents on such an important day, Psyche did her best to keep her head bowed over her food and not speak to anyone. She knew that as soon as she raised her face and caught someone's eye, the whispering and pointing would start.

Eventually, after what seemed like hours, the feasting began to dwindle and a group of professional musicians and bards assembled in front of the two tables and began to play songs to entertain the gathering. Seeing everyone so merry on wine, content and focussed on the entertainment made Psyche realise that an opportunity for respite was being extended to her. Retrieving her cup of wine, she slipped out of the door unnoticed and made her way into the royal garden. She would stay out here for a while; at least until it was time for Pasiphae's unveiling.

The sun was slowly descending from its peak and Psyche deduced that it was still quite early in the afternoon. Thankfully, the day wasn't overly warm. She shuffled over to a pale stone bench, strategically placed so that it offered the guest an unhindered view of the ocean. She sank down onto the cool surface with a weary sigh, staring out at the water with stormy blue eyes full of worry. When would the messenger be back? What would he say? Was she really being punished by Aphrodite? Had Poseidon been right? How would she possibly appease the Goddess if she was? Would she ever be forgiven? Would she ever be married? So many questions rattled through Psyche's mind, making her head hurt. Oh wonderful, just what I need right now, she thought grumpily, her features creasing into a frown. Another headache.

"Why so glum my dear?"

Psyche jerked violently, startled by the sound of a voice behind her. Turning, she met the friendly green eyes of a woman she didn't recognise. She must be a member of the groom's family, Psyche thought, feeling her initial fright subside. The woman was quite lovely, with long, wine coloured hair fashioned into elaborate ringlets. It was obvious she was from a wealthy family, since she was dressed in a fine silk chiton of saffron yellow, covered with intricate burnt orange embroidery. She, like Psyche, was clutching a cup of wine in her hands. Psyche absently wondered whether the fabric of this woman's chiton came from the same part of Asia Minor as Pasiphae's. The stranger saw Psyche examining her apparel and smiled knowingly. Amazingly, Psyche didn't feel at all embarrassed about being caught staring at her clothing in such an ignorant fashion. There was something about the other woman that made her feel immediately relaxed and at ease. It was almost as though she exuded the kind of calm that her mother possessed.

Seeing no harm in talking to this stranger, Psyche returned the smile and said "I suppose I am just a little bit sad, seeing as both of my sisters are now married and have left the house. Now I will be all alone and unmarried."

The auburn haired woman took a seat next to Psyche and they both gazed out across the water. "I can't imagine such a charming young woman as yourself being alone for very much longer," she pronounced after a long silence.

Psyche huffed a laugh. "I believe I would be very lucky to receive even one offer of marriage," she said bitterly.

"Why is that?" the other woman asked, turning and fixing an assessing glance on Psyche's face. "I would have thought that a woman of your appearance and status would be inundated with suitors! Have you not received a single offer?"

"Not one," Psyche answered plaintively, wondering why in Hades she was confiding her marriage woes to this woman. She realised, in a sudden flash of insight that she really wanted—really needed—to talk about her doubts and anxieties candidly to _somebody_, so she kept going. "My family believes that they have done something to anger the Gods. I know the truth though. It isn't my parents that are at fault, it is me."

"What is it that you believe you have done to anger the Gods?" her companion asked, sounding genuinely intrigued.

"The Ithacan people have been hailing me as equal in beauty to Aphrodite herself," Psyche told her, staring down at her hands which were clenched tightly in her lap. "I believe that they have been neglecting their worship of the Goddess because of me. For that insult, I believe that I am being punished."

"So it doesn't please you? To be worshipped in a manner that Aphrodite herself enjoys?"

"Of course not!" Psyche cried. "I am completely undeserving of such admiration. It is a privilege to be enjoyed by the Goddess alone. I have tried my best to avoid angering Aphrodite but it seems my efforts have been in vain. I can only hope that she spares my family from her wrath."

"How are you so sure that Aphrodite is the one punishing you?" the other woman asked.

"Well, I believe that I was spoken to by… by the Earth Shaker," Psyche confessed quietly. She hadn't told a soul about the mysterious encounter at the beach that day, still half believing that the conversation was a figment of her imagination.

"Poseidon?" The surprise was evident in the other woman's voice. "Poseidon spoke to you? What did he say?"

"It wasn't just Poseidon, but his consort Amphitrite as well," Psyche replied, still looking at her hands. "They told me to beware and that the Goddess' eyes were upon me. I think they meant to warn me that I was already in trouble."

"Goodness me," her companion murmured quietly, more to herself then to Psyche. "You certainly _are _the focus of much attention from the Gods. More than I realised."

Much attention? What does that mean? Psyche thought with a thrill of anxiety. She twisted her fingers together more tightly until her knuckles turned white. And just how many of the Gods? How did this woman know about it anyway? Psyche began to feel an uneasy prickling sensation along the back of her neck and it occurred to her that this may be another 'encounter'. This woman sounded as though she may know something, but Psyche didn't dare ask. She felt too afraid.

"Well! I really think you should be heading back inside for your sister's unveiling!" The woman's now cheerful voice broke into Psyche's panicked thoughts. She jerked her head up to thank the woman for her company and sympathy and to ask her name, but there was no one there. The only clue that there had been someone else there was the second wine cup, sitting innocently on the bench beside her. Psyche sat there alone in silence for a long time, stunned and wondering whether she was going insane.

* * *

The sun was setting, casting streaks of crimson, scarlet, gold and lilac through the gradually darkening sky. Psyche had missed Pasiphae's unveiling, staying outside frantically trying to compose herself. She had managed to slip inside the banquet hall shortly after the ceremony and her parents had been too distracted to notice her absence. She had searched for the auburn haired woman among the wedding guests, but had found no trace of her. 

After the wedding procession had left the royal house, Psyche had taken the first opportunity to escape to her room. Now, she lay on her bed, her mind turning the day's events over and over, trying to make sense of the mysterious woman's words.

All of a sudden, her musings were interrupted by a cry travelling through the house that the messenger sent to Delphi had returned. Rising hastily, Psyche all but sprinted down the stairs to the courtyard in order to discover what news had been brought. She watched as a great fuss was made over the weary young man and wondered whether every soul in the establishment knew the real reason he had been sent to the Oracle in the first place. It was likely, word travelled fast in the royal household.

Psyche followed the crowd into the main hall, where the servants were attending to the messenger; preparing him a comfortable seat by the hearth, washing his hands and feet and offering him platters of meat, cheese and varied fruits. She noticed with no great surprise that her parents were there too, sitting on each side of the young man who was trying not to be too intimidated by the fact that he was flanked by the King and Queen. Even after his needs had been attended to, the members of the household continued to hover nearby, obviously curious as to the tidings he was bringing. Psyche herself stayed in her place, hidden in the shadows provided by a deep alcove near the doorway that led to her apartment. She wanted to listen without being noticed by everyone else.

After the messenger had recovered and had finished eating and drinking, Psyche's father placed an unobtrusive hand on his shoulder to get his attention.

"Well my boy?" he asked. "What has the Oracle told us?"

"Are the tidings happy or ill?" asked Psyche's mother anxiously. All at once, the bustle and chatter in the hall died and there was complete silence, everybody present focussing their attention on the messenger. Even Psyche found herself holding her breath. For some reason, she felt as though the words that were about to be spoken would have a great and profound effect on her future.

"Well my lord, my lady," the boy looked nervous. "The tidings from the Oracle are… somewhat… ambiguous."

"Whatever do you mean?" Psyche's father asked, looking concerned. A horrible feeling gripped Psyche in the pit of her stomach, making her feel dizzy.

The messenger withdrew a piece of parchment from a pouch on his waist and unfurled it gingerly. "One of the priestesses of the Oracle was kind enough to write the proclamation down lest I forget the words of Apollo, but I find that I remember them clearly enough."

He handed the scroll to Psyche's father and began to speak in a voice that didn't sound like his own. It was deeper, sonorous and echoed with power and force that was more than mortal. As the voice wove itself through the air, the people in the hall froze, knowing that they were in the presence of a God.

"The virgin is destined for the bride of no mortal lover. Her future husband awaits her on the top of the mountain. He is a monster whom neither gods nor men can resist."

Psyche's dizziness intensified until she was feeling extremely light-headed and had to clutch the wall for support. As she closed her eyes in an effort to compose herself, she could have sworn that for a second she saw a vision of crimson hair and burning amber eyes. Then, blissfully, everything was dark. One of the servants cried out in surprise and alarm as Psyche crumpled in a heap on the floor of the doorway into the main hall.

* * *

_**Author's Notes**_

_Please read and review or I won't know if I'm any good!_

_Now I'm gonna sit back and see who was **really**_ _paying attention._

_Phew, biggest chapter so far! Mwahahaha! _

_Yes, Ares is Enishi. He is a new addition to the cast list. I never said I'd finished casting! It was a suggestion made to me by Kyrene once blood roses and I thought, why didn't I think of that! It's perfect! Well, **I** think it's perfect anyway. For all of you people who don't think you can handle the implications of that, oh well. You can write your own fan-fics where that doesn't happen. Juvenile, narrow-minded, high-schoolish abuse and flames will be deleted. I have noticed that people who want to be smart arses and criticise other people's work tend to be anonymous. Funny that… Mature, helpful and constructive comments however, are always welcomed and appreciated, anonymous or otherwise. _

_Technically, Aphrodite is Ares' great aunt. She was born in the ocean out of Ouranos' severed penis. Ouranos was the father of Cronos, who was one of the Titans, so that would make Aphrodite Cronos' sister. Cronos is the father of Zeus. Ares is the son of Zeus and Hera. But I liked the idea of Ares and Aphrodite being brother and sister, considering who the characters are in the RK universe, so I made it into one of Ares' favourite fantasies. _

_On the subject of family lineage, I boggled my little brain trying to work out the proper connection between Eros and Apollo. I even drew a family tree for myself! Okay, so we know that Aphrodite is Zeus' aunt. Eros is Aphrodite's son, which makes him first cousin to Zeus and his siblings (Hades, Poseidon, Hera, Hestia and Demeter). Apollo and Artemis are twins fathered by Zeus and Leto (a Titaness). So that would make Apollo Eros' first cousin once removed, or something like that, even though Apollo is much older. I thought just saying cousins would do. Mou!_

_Dionysus, for those of you who don't know, is the Greek God of wine, drama and vegetation. He is said to be a little bit mad. His worshippers are known as 'maenads', who are usually ordinary women from surrounding lands that have been possessed by Dionysus' power. They leave their homes and families to participate in frenzied dancing, hunting and orgies. Maenads are said to be temporarily insane and possessed of inhuman strength. I'll try to include a little myth for you all concerning the maenads in a future chapter._

_The Ancient Greek wedding is a complicated affair and I've tried to explain the way it works in the chapter. Basically, it's held over three days, at the end of which the bride and groom are married and she leaves her father's house and goes to live with her new husband. If you REALLY want to know more about Ancient Greek weddings, email me and I'll point you to some educational websites. _

_As for the role of the bridesmaids, I was a bit naughty and borrowed the concept from Ancient Rome rather than Ancient Greece. I just liked the tradition. The rest is Greek._

'_Proaulia' is the day before the wedding ceremony._

'_Gamos' is the day of the wedding ceremony._

_The differences between the Ionic and Doric chiton are hard to explain, it's often better to just see for yourself. _


	4. Chapter 4

39

_THE CAST_

_Eros: Kenshin_

_Psyche: Kaoru_

_Aphrodite: Tomoe_

_Hephaistos: Akira_

_Zephyrus: Sanosuke_

_Zeus: Hiko_

_Demeter: Tae_

_Amphitrite: Misao_

_Poseidon: Aoshi_

_Admetus (invisible attendant): Yahiko _

_Alcestis (invisible attendant): Tsubame_

_Persephone: Tokio_

_Hades: Saitou_

_Chloris: Megumi_

_Ares: Enishi_

_Hera: Yumi_

_All other characters are of my own creating, except for their names, which are mostly plucked from Greek myths._

_Another chapter. Whew! I'm getting a nasty feeling that this is going to be an epic in the truest sense of the word. I originally intended it to only be a few chapters long. Oh well…_

_Thank you, once again, to all the lovely people who reviewed Chapter 3, as well as the people who continue to support this story, years on._

_I have re-posted this sanitised version of Chapter 4, with the explicit sex scene cut out. __**If you would like to read the unedited version of this chapter, please visit my profile page and follow the links under my "updates" section to my Live Journal.**_

_Many thanks to my beta reader Ice-Cool, who ruthlessly picks holes in all my plotlines. Where would I be without you? Thanks are also due to Ravyn, Dragonsdaughter and Jane Drew, who were of immense help regarding plot discussions and feedback._

_WARNINGS: Still rated M for incest, lime and other adult themes in this chapter. Be warned!_

_DISCLAIMER: I do not own Rurouni Kenshin and its characters, nor do I own the original story of Cupid and Psyche, the Greek Gods, or the myths that come with them. I also do not own any part of The Odyssey by Homer._

**CHAPTER FOUR**

Eros glared venomously at Apollo, who was doing a truly admirable job of ignoring him.

"You snake!" he spat, blazing amber eyes narrowed in anger. "How could you make such an ominous proclamation? She will be absolutely terrified now! Look what you did to her!" He flung a hand in Psyche's general direction. "She's fainted! _Fainted!_ Obviously, all you care about is your dramatics, but that woman is going to be my _wife!_ She deserves more respect from the likes of _you!_" Eros was furious. He realised now that this was Apollo's way of informing him that he knew it was Eros that had been responsible for his humiliation with Daphne. Apollo rarely engaged himself in direct confrontations, choosing instead to make his point by quietly getting even. This proclamation was Apollo's method of settling the score.

Apollo had summoned Eros earlier that day with the offer of accompanying him while he paid a visit to the Ithacan royal house. His intention had been to deliver his priestess' proclamation personally. Eros had asked him why he was troubling himself to go all the way to Ithaca for such a minor matter and Apollo had smiled his most enigmatic smile and told him that he had a special interest in the whole affair. So, Apollo and Eros had caught up with Ithaca's messenger on the road to the palace and had followed him, unseen by mortal eyes, into the main hall.

Eros had watched with mild interest as Apollo took possession of the messenger, not in the least surprised that it only took the people gathered around him a few moments to notice that the boy was being overshadowed. A God or Goddess tended to pass on certain distinctive traits to the mortals they possessed and in Apollo's case, it was his unmistakeable voice that always gave him away.

Eros had smiled to himself as Apollo began to speak, watching the mortals freeze in awe. But that smile had soon turned into a dark frown when he realised exactly _what_ Apollo was actually saying. His heart had stopped when he saw Psyche collapse in the doorway of the hall. He hadn't even realised she was there, hiding in a darkened recess on the other side of the large doorway. He had only just stopped himself in time from dashing to her side to check that she was all right. He watched now, as the King gathered her up in his arms, with the Queen and a flock of servants hovering around him. He wanted nothing more than to appear in front of the entire gathering and take Psyche into his _own_ arms, but his desire to protect both Psyche and himself from the wrath of his mother was much stronger. However, that did not lessen his anger.

Apollo sighed in annoyance, only half listening to Eros' tirade. Possessing that messenger boy, although only for a few moments, had tired him a little. He generally preferred to not overshadow mortals, which was why he sent his visions to the Delphian priestesses in the form of vapours from a fissure in the ground that they inhaled.

"Eros," he snapped, interrupting the younger God mid-rant. "Am I correct in assuming that your ultimate objective is to protect Psyche, her family and yourself from repercussions of you not carrying out the task Aphrodite entrusted you with?"

"Yes," Eros answered through clenched teeth. "You already know that, Apollo."

"So, would I also be correct in assuming that a proclamation announcing that Eros, the God of passion, has fallen in love with Psyche and intends to marry her would be somewhat at odds with this objective?" Apollo fixed Eros with his sternest gaze. The red-head was being utterly childish. He conceded to himself that he _had_ used the proclamation to achieve revenge against Eros for his earlier mischief, however, that had not been his sole motivation. It was more a case of killing two birds with one stone. But, there was no possible way he would ever reveal that to his cousin.

Eros returned Apollo's gimlet-eyed stare with a filthy look of his own. What the Archer had said was perfectly true and logical, which served only to incense him further. Eros knew that Apollo intended the proclamation to be shocking enough that it would serve to deflect Aphrodite's ire, but he also knew that he had conveniently taken the opportunity to humiliate him once again. How _dare _that coward use something so important to get revenge!

"The… substance of your little _speech_," he ground out, fighting to get his temper back under control, "Was crafted in a manner that dealt unnecessary damage to Psyche and her family. If our best interests were what you _truly_ had in mind, you would have chosen more diplomatic words."

Apollo smiled tightly. "You need to learn how to choose your battles, cousin," he replied. "It would most definitely _not_ be in your 'best interests' to fall out of my favour at such a delicate time. You would do well to remember the amount of influence I hold in matters of… information."

"You wouldn't!" Eros was aghast. The very thought of his mother finding out about this was enough to make his stomach drop. The very thought of Apollo possessing such material to threaten him with made bile rise in his throat. So, overall, the God of passion was not feeling in the best of health at that particular point in time.

Apollo's smile turned nasty. "I _would_, so just watch your mouth Eros."

"I'm sorry I ever asked for your help," Eros muttered, furious but not quite foolish enough to continue the argument.

"You should be thinking about the ways in which _you _are able to protect Psyche and her family," Apollo told him. "Relying solely on others to do it for you would be a most fatal error. The words of the proclamation _were _necessary and I am sure that in time you will come to be of the same mind. So, perhaps you should also be thinking about the methods you could employ to remedy the 'damage' that you are so concerned about."

Eros folded his arms, feeling most unpleasantly like a chastised child. He stared sullenly as Psyche's father carried her out of the hall and in the direction of her apartments. Sifting through the crowd with observant violet eyes, Eros suddenly saw a face that he recognised. It was that attendant he had seen the last time he had paid a visit to the Ithacan royal household. What had her name been? Malva? No, that wasn't it. Malinda? No, it was a shorter name than that… Maia! That was the woman's name, he was sure of it. Now, he clearly remembered Psyche's beautiful voice saying the name aloud.

This Maia must be Psyche's personal attendant, he mused as he watched the woman accept some cloth and a bowl of water from another servant before following the King and Queen at a respectful distance. As he observed this, Apollo's earlier words and actions suddenly inspired Eros with a brilliant idea. He had watched Apollo overshadow that messenger boy like it had been nothing. Surely he could do the same with Maia? Yes, he would take control of the woman's body and use her influence to soothe Psyche's fear when she woke up.

Eros had never possessed a human before, but he didn't believe that it would be very difficult. After all, the other Gods and Goddesses did the same thing quite regularly, sometimes even for fun. His mind made up, he turned back to his companion.

"I think I know what you mean, cousin," Eros said with a small smile before stealing after Maia. Apollo was left staring after him, a vaguely pleased look adorning his golden features.

Perhaps the boy is not completely hopeless after all, he thought to himself. Still, the fact that I had to prod him into action with inflammatory words tells me that he still has much to learn.

II

When Psyche opened her eyes, she saw the worried faces of Maia, her mother and her father all staring down at her. Oh no. She had done the unthinkable. She had fainted in front of the entire household. How utterly humiliating.

She blinked owlishly a few times, attempting to gauge how she was feeling. The awful twisting, burning sensation in her stomach was still there, but less intense. The dizziness had faded, but Psyche wasn't sure what would happen when she sat up, so she decided to lie still for the time being. She stared blankly at the ceiling for a little while and was relieved to discover that she recognised the textured white paint as the same unique shade that covered the roof of her apartments. So, she had been moved to her room. She wondered who had carried her and concluded that it must have been her father. He was loath to let any other man touch her.

Although, Psyche thought bitterly, none of that really mattered now did it? The proclamation had made it perfectly clear that her personal honour and purity would ultimately amount to nothing. She screwed her eyes shut, trying to block out the sick feeling of fear that threatened to overwhelm her again.

"My lady?" Maia's voice was a mix of anxiety and hesitation. Maia must be terribly worried about me, Psyche told herself. I should really open my eyes and tell her that I am all right. But, however much she tried, Psyche couldn't seem to force her eyes open, because in truth, she wasn't all right at all.

Maia was one of the most senior and respected female servants in the royal household. She had been in the service of the royal family since she had been sold to Psyche's grandfather as a young girl. Psyche's grandfather and grandmother had long since made the journey across the River Styx, which would place Maia somewhere between fifty and fifty five summers. Days of birth held little consequence for most Greeks, especially servants, so age was generally estimated rather than known for certain.

Maia had also cared for Psyche personally since the day she had been born and, over the years, the Ithacan princess had come to see the woman as a surrogate mother of sorts. While Psyche had never felt that anyone around her truly understood her feelings, Maia was the person who came the closest. She had been Psyche's main source of company as she grew up, since Psyche's appearance had caused the princess to become somewhat of a recluse. Maia had helped Psyche cope with her anxiety and embarrassment at being an object of such widespread attention by taking her away from everyone else and telling her hundreds of stories and myths to pass the time and to distract her from her unhappiness. It was Maia's influence that had cultivated Psyche's great love of stories and mythology. The woman seemed to possess a never-ending supply of these stories and Psyche had memorised each and every one she had ever been told, taking the characters and the morals to heart and re-telling the stories to herself when she felt lonely or unhappy. Psyche had numerous memories from her childhood of sitting on Maia's lap, tugging at her chiton and begging to hear the story of Theseus, or Perseus, or Heracles, just one more time.

As well as sharing the richness of folklore with her young charge, Maia had also tried to instil in Psyche vital qualities that would help to shape her into a woman worthy of only the best life had to offer. The most important virtues Maia had taught her were piety, compassion and courage. Psyche had lived her life so far by adhering to those virtues with almost obsessive vigilance.

But, the one thing that Maia had always told Psyche more than anything else was that she should never show people that she was afraid. Fear was a weakness that royalty could not afford. Reluctantly, Psyche opened her eyes and gave her handmaiden a tremulous smile.

"Are you all right?" This time, it was the King who spoke. He knelt by Psyche's bedside and clasped her small white hand gently between his two larger ones. "We were so worried when you fainted down in the hall. We thought you had taken ill. You are still very pale, daughter. Should we send for a healer?"

"No Father," Psyche answered quietly, keeping her movements delicate and minimal as she sat up and faced him. Thankfully, the dizziness and nausea were not quite as bad as they had been before. "I just received a shock upon hearing the words of the Oracle. I feel much recovered now. I apologise for causing such a scene."

"It's all right." Psyche turned her gaze away from her father to look at the deeply troubled face of her mother. "I realise those tidings from Delphi must have been horrible for you to hear. Your father and I had half hoped that you would stay in your apartment and we would talk to you about them later, in private."

Psyche favoured her mother with a sardonic smile. "I couldn't help being curious," she told her. "After all, the proclamation concerned my future."

The Queen smiled back grimly and reached out to smooth Psyche's hair back from her forehead. "I understand," she said. "I probably would have done the same thing myself. The question is: what will we do now?"

"Your Majesty, I really think that the Princess should be allowed to rest," Maia intervened gently. "Perhaps if everybody has some time to calm down and think things over, a solution will present itself."

The King and Queen looked at Maia contemplatively for a few seconds and then nodded their heads in assent.

"When you feel better, why don't you come down and see us?" Psyche's mother told her. "Then we'll talk about a plan of action."

Psyche just nodded and smiled weakly. The very mention of talking about 'a plan of action' set her fragile stomach churning all over again.

When her parents had left the room, Psyche turned to face Maia with an anguished expression on her face. The handmaiden said nothing, simply moving forward and enveloping her in a comforting hug. To her utter mortification, within a few moments, Psyche found herself sobbing into Maia's robes. She desperately tried to stop crying, but it was no use. All she managed to do was make ugly, jagged, moaning noises with each intake of breath.

"Hush my lady, it will be all right," Eros soothed in Maia's voice, rubbing circles on Psyche's back. The sound of her tears made his heart twist painfully. The urge to comfort her and stop her from crying was flooding his entire being.

"No it won't!" Psyche burst out, her voice a plaintive wail. "You heard what the Oracle said! I am destined to be given to a monster! He will surely kill me upon sight and devour my body!" She gripped the fabric of Maia's clothing in her hands and buried her face deeper in Maia's shoulder, her sobs intensifying. "I'm so afraid Maia. I know that I mustn't be afraid, but I am."

Eros sighed, squashing his mild indignation at being called a monster in favour of his concern about this woman who had captivated him so. He sat down next to Psyche on the bed and tugged her towards him until the girl was lying back down on her side with her head resting in his lap. He laced the fingers of one hand with Psyche's own and used the other to stroke the princess' long black hair. Eventually, Psyche relaxed against him, curling up so that her knees were drawn against her chest and her free hand was resting on his knee. Her sobs receded until she was simply breathing deeply, obviously trying to calm herself down.

The feeling of her holding his hand and lying against him while he stroked her hair was incredible. He knew that he wasn't supposed to be here, that it was a stolen moment, since he was wearing the body of her attendant as a disguise. That knowledge still didn't stop the intense feelings that were currently blooming in his chest. He primarily felt a sort of awe at the fact that mortals were so emotional and so trusting, mixed with a large amount of appreciation of Psyche's lovely body, pressed along the length of his leg. At the same time, Eros also felt an all-consuming, burning desire to protect Psyche from all causes of harm. He knew without a doubt that, right now, he would happily kill anyone or anything that ever tried to hurt this woman, _his_ woman. On top of all that was the knowledge that Psyche would be lying with him like this willingly, without him having to use another body as a disguise, in the not too distant future. He supposed that all of the feelings combined constituted love, or at least the beginnings of it. He was a little bit nervous that a mortal woman was having such a huge effect on him, but at the same time, he didn't care as long as she would be _his_ in the end.

"I know the proclamation sounded bad, but you shouldn't give up hope," he told Psyche gently. "It's likely that the situation isn't as bad as the Oracle is making it out to be." Psyche sniffled and shifted uncomfortably in his loose embrace and Eros silently resolved to himself to get even with Apollo in the most violent manner possible. It didn't matter that Apollo was trying to protect them; he had caused his future wife no small amount of distress and that required atonement.

"I would like to think that you are right, but I doubt that you are," Psyche answered softly after a long silence. "I know that I am being punished for offending Aphrodite and it is something that I need to come to terms with."

Eros felt a surge of dark resentment towards his mother for causing Psyche this undeserved grief.

"Aphrodite is a malicious and vain woman who is overly possessive of her beauty," Eros told her, his contempt lacing Maia's voice as it left her mouth. "Be assured that you are innocent and undeserving of her vindictive jealousy."

All of a sudden, he was practically nose to nose with Psyche, her luminous blue eyes wide and scared.

"Maia, you mustn't talk like that!" she whispered desperately. "That is a truly wicked and impious thing to be saying about the Goddess! I don't mind paying the price for Ithaca's foolishness but I couldn't bear it if you were to be punished as well!"

Utterly smitten by both her selflessness and her piety, Eros reached out and cupped her cheek gently with Maia's hand.

"Don't worry about me my lady," he assured her. "I promise you that nothing ill will come from my words." He leaned forward slightly and kissed her on the forehead, resisting the temptation to kiss her on the mouth. "Lie down now," he ordered, giving Psyche a gentle nudge. "It's time for you to get some rest." As the girl obediently crawled up the bed and settled amongst the pillows, Eros knelt on the floor beside the bed so that he was at eye level with her.

"Promise me that no matter what happens, you will never show them your fear." Psyche nodded, knowing that it was her duty to accept her punishment with grace and honour.

"Even if it is my fate to die a horrible death, I promise that I will make my family proud," Psyche answered, fierce determination igniting her gaze like blue fire. "I will hold my head high and do what I must to protect the royal family and the Ithacan people. As long as their eyes are upon me, I will not be afraid."

"Good," Eros said, feeling extremely pleased that the girl seemed to have a backbone.

"Maia?"

"Yes, my lady?"

"Do you remember the story of Oedipus?"

Eros certainly knew the story. He had _been_ there for certain parts of it, using his gold tipped arrows to make sure everything came to pass as Apollo had proclaimed. What a truly convoluted and messy affair it had been. "Yes my lady, I remember."

"Will you tell it to me again as I go to sleep?"

Eros looked down in surprise and met deep blue eyes that seemed resolute, but vulnerable and drained at the same time. "Please?" she beseeched him in a soft voice. "You can sit on the bed again while you tell me."

How could he say no when she used such a persuasive tone _and_ an invitation into her bed? Who was he fooling, _everything _about this girl was persuasive.

"All right." Eros rose and sat down on the bed once more, not missing the small, pleased smile on Psyche's face as she shifted on the bed to make room for him.

"Once there was a King that ruled over the land of Thebes," Eros began, Maia's voice taking on a smoother, more liquid quality as it eased into the monologue. "His name was Laius and he was descended from Cadmus, the founder of Thebes. One day, whilst attending the court of Pelops in Asia Minor as a guest, Laius took advantage of Pelops' young son Chrysippus."

"Really?" Psyche interrupted. "You've never told me _that_ part of the story before, Maia! What do you mean, 'took advantage'?"

"Oh?" Eros froze, at a complete loss as to what to say. He should have known that the attendant would be far too proper to talk about sex with the virgin princess. Well, there was no hope for it, better to continue than to try and cover up what had already been said.

"Ah, I mean that Laius made love to Chrysippus… without his permission." Eros answered finally, glancing sideways at Psyche to see what her reaction would be. He was amused and slightly aroused at the soft pink flush rising on her cheeks and neck.

"I… I see," Psyche stammered. For some strange reason, Maia's words had caused her to remember the experience she'd had on Poseidon's feast day, when she'd woken up with those intense feelings rippling through her body. Even now, at the thought of those sensations, Psyche could feel her cheeks heating up and a tightening between her legs in response.

Shifting uncomfortably in an effort to ignore the unsettling feeling, Psyche focussed her attention on her handmaiden once again. "What happened to Chrysippus… afterwards?" she asked, taking care to keep her voice casual.

"Oh, Chrysippus hung himself in shame," Maia replied as if it was a completely logical answer. "So, Pelops pronounced a curse on the royal house of Thebes in retaliation."

"So _that's_ how it started."

"Yes, my lady. After this had happened, Laius returned to Thebes and took a woman named Jocasta as his Queen. Jocasta did not bear him any children, which caused him to send a messenger to the Delphian Oracle. The Oracle told him that if Jocasta ever bore Laius a son, that son would end up killing him."

"That must have made Laius and Jocasta very sad," Psyche murmured. "They would never be able to have a family."

"Yes. So, Laius and Jocasta abandoned the marriage bed in order to prevent Jocasta from getting with child. But one night, Laius became heady on wine and lay with Jocasta, conceiving a child."

"Jocasta should have refused him," Psyche said firmly. Eros suppressed a smile. He was sure that by the time he had finished memorising every inch of Psyche's body, she would be unable to refuse him, ever.

"When the child was eventually born, it turned out to be a son. Laius and Jocasta decided that, in order to prevent the prophecy from coming to pass, the child should be killed. So, Laius had a shepherd pierce the child's ankles with a metal spike and take him to the mountainside of Cithaeron outside Thebes to be exposed."

"Why did they pierce the baby's ankles?"

"Well, it was intended both to hasten the child's death and also to prevent his ghost from walking freely," Eros answered. When Psyche indicated that he should go on with a solemn nod, Eros continued the story.

"Unfortunately for Laius and Jocasta, their servant felt sorry for the baby and gave him to a passing shepherd. This shepherd bore him away to Corinth, where he was taken in by King Polybus and Queen Merope, who had no children of their own. They named him Oedipus."

"Swell-foot," Psyche said quietly.

"Yes. As Oedipus grew up, he was taunted by the other children, who told him that he wasn't Polybus' true son. When he reached the age of manhood, Oedipus travelled to Delphi to ask the Oracle about his parentage. The Oracle told him that he was destined to murder his father and marry his mother."

"Poor Oedipus. He must have been devastated when he heard that."

"So, Oedipus, wrongly believing that he was born in Corinth, decided to journey north in order to protect Polybus and Merope. As he was heading in the direction of Thebes, he came across Laius and his party travelling in the opposite direction, who were incidentally on their way to the Oracle in Delphi."

"Because of the Sphinx?" Psyche asked.

"Yes, there was a monster known as the Sphinx terrorising the Theban countryside, with the head of a woman, the body of a lion and the wings of an eagle. She would ask each passer-by a complex riddle and if they answered incorrectly, she would devour them. But, we should get back to Oedipus. The young man refused to stand aside for Laius' chariot, unaware that he was royalty and annoyed by the man's arrogant manner. When Laius' charioteer deliberately ran over Oedipus' foot, a fight ensued where Oedipus killed every man in Laius' party, save for one who managed to escape."

"I always wondered how he managed to do that," Psyche murmured.

"Oedipus continued on towards Thebes. He heard a rumour along the way that Creon, the regent of Thebes, had promised the city's throne and the hand of Queen Jocasta to whomever was able to get rid of the Sphinx and decided to try his luck. He eventually encountered the Sphinx, who asked him the following riddle: what creature stands on four legs in the morning, two in the afternoon and three in the evening?"

"Man!" Psyche answered immediately in a triumphant voice.

Eros smiled to himself. He was actually quite enjoying himself and it appeared that Psyche enjoyed hearing stories. He committed that piece of information to memory.

"Very good my lady, that is exactly what Oedipus told the Sphinx. He said that man crawled on all fours as a baby, walked on two legs in his prime and leant on a stick in his old age. The Sphinx, enraged at finally being outwitted, threw herself off her cliff and into a deep chasm, where she died."

"What happened then?"

"Oedipus arrived in Thebes, where he was married to Jocasta and given the throne. Jocasta bore Oedipus two sons, named Polynices and Eteocles and two daughters, named Antigone and Ismene. They all lived happily together for a while, but then a terrible plague settled upon Thebes and Oedipus sent Creon, Jocasta's brother, to the Delphian Oracle to see if there was anything to be done. The Oracle commanded Oedipus to drive the murderer of Laius out of Thebes."

"Oh dear," Psyche interrupted. "This is where things begin to unravel."

"Indeed, my lady. The great Seer Tiresias came to Thebes and told Oedipus that he was the murderer, which the King refused to believe. Eventually, Oedipus' quest to find Laius' murderer turned into a quest to discover his true parentage. This dismayed Jocasta no end, because she realised the truth long before he did. She had told him the details of the prophecy placed on her son in an effort to reassure him that prophet's words held no truth. Frightened by this, Oedipus had extracted a description of Laius from Jocasta, as well as the name of the place where he had been supposedly struck down. The only reason Jocasta had known was because of the one servant that had escaped during Oedipus' fight with Laius. He had told her everything and, once seeing Oedipus on the throne, had begged Jocasta to send him away from the city."

"He should have said something," Psyche muttered.

"As Oedipus was beginning to piece things together, coming closer to the horrible truth, a messenger arrived from Corinth, informing Oedipus that Polybus had died," Eros continued. "It was this messenger who confirmed that Oedipus was not related to Polybus or Merope by blood, as the messenger was also the shepherd who had found him as a baby on Mount Cithaeron and taken him to Corinth. The messenger indicated Oedipus' ankles and told him that they had been pinned together when he had been found. He told Oedipus that if wished to know who had pinned them together, he would have to find the man who had dubbed himself 'a servant of Laius'. Jocasta, knowing what was about to happen, begged her husband to stop his quest for answers, but Oedipus would not listen, wanting too much to solve the mystery of his birth. Jocasta fled and Oedipus summoned the servant, who turned out to be that one surviving man from Laius' party. When the terrible truth was revealed, Oedipus ran blindly through the palace and eventually found Jocasta, who had hung herself above the royal bed. He cut her down, took the brooches from her robes and used them to gouge out his own eyes."

"That's so awful!" Psyche gasped. "No matter how many times I hear the story, I'm always so horrified when I hear that part."

"Oedipus begged Creon to exile him from Thebes, to bury Jocasta and to take the throne. He wandered for many years with his daughter Antigone as his guide, until he found spiritual peace in a sacred grove at Colonus, outside Athens. He died there and his bones served to save the Athenians from any future attacks from the Thebans. That, my lady, is the story of Oedipus."

"And?" Psyche asked in a sleepy, utterly endearing voice.

"And what?" Eros replied, momentarily confused.

Psyche chuckled softly. "Maia, this is the part when you ask me what the moral of the story is! Don't tell me you're forgetting things in your old age!"

Eros, feeling a bit miffed, obediently asked "What is the moral of the story, my lady?"

"The moral of the story is that no man can escape his destiny and no man can prevent the words of the Oracle from coming to light," Psyche answered immediately. Eros' chest tightened as he suddenly realised exactly _why_ she had wanted to hear the story. It seemed she was a lot stronger than he had given her credit for. "The words of the Oracle are sacred and must be accepted as inescapable truths," Psyche continued. She glanced at Eros, a bittersweet smile curving her full mouth. "Thank you, Maia," she whispered. Getting the impression that the girl wanted to sleep now, Eros rose and stood by the side of the bed, preparing to leave.

"I will see you again soon, my lady Psyche."

"Yes," Psyche answered sleepily, closing her eyes. "I'll see you when I wake up."

That wasn't _quite_ what I meant, my sweet, Eros thought to himself as he left Psyche's room. He smiled wickedly as he thought of all the truly sinful things he was going to do to her once he had her safely tucked away in his palace in the clouds. He would make sure she never experienced fear ever again.

Concentrating for a few seconds, he stepped out of Maia's body, making sure to leave the memory of his conversation with Psyche lingering in her mind, so that she would not cause anyone to suspect that she had been overshadowed. Deciding to be particularly cautious, he planted some suggestions into the handmaiden's mind, about how she wasn't feeling well and was acting a little out of character. That way she would think that the foggy patch in her memory would be attributable to her feeling out of sorts.

Eros had never overshadowed a human before, so there was nothing that would indicate to anyone that it had been _him_, but still, it was better to be safe than sorry. He didn't want any unnecessary attention being focussed on him at such a pivotal time.

He smirked as he watched the handmaiden continue to walk down the passageway with a slightly dazed expression on her face.

_Not long now Psyche, soon you will be mine._

III

"Why are you all so desperately sad?" Psyche interrupted calmly. The people around her fell silent and the princess suddenly found herself to be the focus of many pairs of incredulous eyes. She supposed that she shouldn't be surprised by this, since she had always made a point of not speaking in front of large crowds of people. It created such a stir of unwanted attention.

"What do you mean, my lady?" Maia asked after a brief silence. She glanced at Psyche's mother and father, who were surveying their daughter with surprise and trepidation. "Of course we are sad! Why wouldn't we be? The King and Queen, along with the whole of the Ithacan royal house, are mourning the cruel fate which has been thrust upon you so unjustly by the Gods."

Psyche shook her head in silent admonishment of her handmaiden's words. How could people think that this 'fate' of hers was unjust and undeserved? Did they not realise that it was _their _fault that she was in this situation? A sudden, acidic wave of resentment rose up inside Psyche and she began to speak before she realised what she was saying. "Why do you lament me _now?_" she asked, aiming her question at the entire group around her. "You should have all grieved for me when people showered such undeserved honours upon me! What do you believe it was that _caused_ me to earn this punishment?"

Psyche snapped her mouth shut, aware that her voice was beginning to rise in volume. She had always known that she possessed a somewhat explosive temper, not unlike Phaedra's, but she had successfully kept it under control for the majority of her life. She projected an image of gentleness and serenity, which she had most likely just damaged with her little outburst, if the shocked expressions on the servant's faces said anything.

Her mother and father had called a meeting of the entire household once Psyche had risen from her rest. They were all assembled in the main hall, everybody talking loudly, trying to figure out some way to cheat Psyche's destiny. Psyche knew that there was no possible way of escaping what the Oracle had proclaimed and Maia's earlier words only seemed to strengthen her resolve. The rapid babbling of the people around her struck her as cowardly and desperate. Psyche was determined to show the entire gathering that she possessed courage and honour and would not let fear for her own safety impact upon the household.

"My daughter, you must let us grieve for you in the only way we can," Psyche's father told her quietly, his voice slicing through the silence like a sword. "It gives the people comfort to talk of possible ways in which to rescue you from your demise."

"Well, the people should have thought of 'rescuing me from my demise' when they proclaimed me far and wide with one voice to be an equal to Aphrodite," Psyche answered him in ringing tones. "I now perceive that I am a victim to that voice and that name. I submit to my fate and I will not cower from it and bring shame on my family. I say, lead me to that mountain to which my unhappy fate has destined me."

"Surely you cannot mean that!" Psyche's mother gasped, a hand clutched over her heart.

"I mean it will all my heart, Mother," Psyche assured her. "If this is what the Gods have chosen for me, it is what must be and nothing else. I will accept my punishment and restore favour to the royal house."

"Are you sure that this is what you want?" Psyche's father asked gravely. "We all know well that we cannot hope to avoid the words of the Oracle, but I cannot bear to send you to your death like this."

"I am not afraid to die," Psyche lied. She told herself silently, over and over, that she was protecting her family and doing what was right. The sooner she submitted, the sooner her family would be safe. They were all she had and it was her duty to protect them. "I beseech you Father," she continued, "we should waste no time. We must leave tomorrow morning."

The King stared down at his clasped hands for a long time. When he finally raised his eyes to meet Psyche's they were tired and defeated. It was as though he had aged many years in a few moments.

"As you wish, my daughter," he said in broken tones. "We will make the journey to the top of the mountain before sunrise tomorrow morning."

IV

They were gone. They were really gone. They had left her here to face her fate all alone. Of course, Psyche had vehemently insisted that she be left completely alone at the top of the mountain for the reason that she didn't want her family being injured when the monster eventually came to devour her. But truthfully, the princess was desperately afraid and wished more than anything that there was someone here with her. It didn't particularly matter who it was that was with her, just so long as there was another person present to quieten the frenzied, shrieking voices inside her head that were telling her to run away as fast as she could. Only her pride and the knowledge that she could not escape the words of the Oracle kept her feet still.

There had been a large procession in Psyche's honour that morning. The Ithacan royal household had attended in its entirety, as well as the majority of the people in the surrounding lands. The procession itself had more resembled an _ekphora_, or funeral procession, than anything else. The journey to the top of the mountain had been made in utter silence, with Psyche being carried on a litter of simple white cloth. Her mother had dressed her in her white supplicant's robes, leaving her face clean and her hair unadorned. She was even barefoot. She had received none of the rites or rituals that her sisters had received before their marriages, as it was widely assumed that Psyche would simply be killed the moment the monster came for her.

When they had arrived at the top of the mountain, Psyche had climbed off her litter and embraced her now weeping parents. Maia had embraced her solemnly, whispering a prayer in her ear as she let go. Psyche had mustered up a smile for them from somewhere deep inside, waving her hands and telling them not to worry, she would be fine here, alone. She told them to hurry and get themselves down the mountain to safety. They had refused, but she had insisted. All too soon, they had disappeared from her sight. Psyche had watched them walk back down the mountain, until the craggy ridges had obscured their forms.

Now, Psyche desperately tried to regulate her breathing, but she couldn't seem to stop the strangled, gasping pants that were issuing from her mouth. Her hands were trembling violently as she lifted them to her cheeks. Her fingertips found the tears that were rolling down her face in a torrent and she scrubbed at her eyes furiously, trying to stop the flow. When Psyche was satisfied that her weeping had ceased, she lowered her shaking hands and twisted them into the flowing fabric of her skirt.

In an attempt to distract herself, she looked around the clearing. The dawn was slightly chilly and Psyche was glad that she was wearing a woollen cloak over her chiton. The sky above was a warm, gentle shade of pink, shot through with tendrils of gold and adorned with pale wisps of cloud. She guessed that it would not be long until the sun rose completely.

In an attempt to keep herself calm, Psyche sat down on a large, windswept boulder, smoothing her supplicant's robes and tucking them beneath her legs. She turned her thoughts towards Maia; the life lessons she had taught her and the many stories she had regaled her with to while away the lonely hours. She decided that telling herself a story would help to pass the time and keep her mind off her impending demise.

Mentally rifling through her collection of tales, she suddenly recalled the story of Prince Theseus and the Minotaur. She remembered that she had thought about King Minos and the Minotaur in passing on Poseidon's feast day and decided to pick up where she had left off. The story was long and complex, easy to lose yourself in and perfect for passing time. The moral of the story, Maia had told her, was to show courage in the face of mortal danger, but not to let your luck later bloom into arrogance. Luck, Maia always firmly maintained, was a gift bestowed on mortals by the Gods alone.

Theseus was the son of King Aegeus, the King of Athens, by a woman named Aethra. Before Aegeus met Aethra and before Theseus was born, Aegeus went to consult the Delphian Oracle, as he had no children. In a vague and cryptic answer, the Oracle told Aegeus not to untie his wine skin until he arrived back home.

Confused by this proclamation, Aegeus went and visited his friend, King Pittheus, the ruler of Troezen. Once he had heard what the Oracle had said, Pittheus realised that Aegeus was likely to conceive a powerful son after the feast celebrating his return to Athens. He plied his guest with wine until he was drunk and then put him to bed with his daughter Aethra, who became pregnant with Theseus.

Before Aegeus left for Athens, he took Aethra to a large boulder under which he placed his sword and sandals. He told her that, should she give birth to a son, she must wait until he was strong enough to raise the boulder before sending him to Athens to claim his birthright.

Once Theseus was born and came of age, Aethra explained that he was the heir to the Athenian throne. Theseus retrieved the sword and sandals from beneath the boulder and set off for Athens. While on his journey, Theseus proved his bravery and strength numerous times by slaying bandits and assorted monsters. On his way through the kingdom of Eleusis, Theseus was forced to accept the challenge of the King to a wrestling match. The King died as a result of the match and Theseus was made King of Eleusis.

When he finally arrived in Athens, Theseus discovered that Aegeus was having trouble holding onto the throne. He was being challenged by the fifty sons of his half-brother and was also under the spell of Medea, a powerful witch. She was currently residing in Athens with her son, who she hoped would gain the throne once Aegeus died.

Theseus hid his identity, but Medea knew who he was. She persuaded Aegeus to let her poison him at a banquet, but Aegeus recognised Theseus' sword as he carved the meat. Thus exposed, Medea and her son fled Athens, while Aegeus named Theseus as his successor. Theseus went on to prove himself a hero in Athens by dealing with his uncle's sons and also by slaying a wild bull that was ravaging the poleis of Marathon to the north-east.

Theseus also volunteered to confront the Minotaur, repulsed at the idea of having to send a tribute of human slaves to Crete every year to be devoured. No man had ever encountered the Minotaur and lived to tell the tale, so Aegeus despaired. He made Theseus promise that, should he survive, he would fly white sails on his ship as he returned home. If he was killed, the crew would fly black sails.

When Theseus arrived at Minos' palace in Knossos, disguised as one of the slaves, Aphrodite gave him an important ally. Princess Ariadne, Minos' daughter, fell desperately in love with Theseus upon sight. She knew the trick behind solving the Labyrinth and, as the slaves were being sent in, she told Theseus that she would help him, but only if he agreed to marry her. When he gave her his word, Ariadne gave Theseus a ball of twine and a sword. She told him to fasten the thread to the wall at the entrance of the Labyrinth and unravel it as he went, following it back to get out again.

Theseus found the Minotaur in the middle of the Labyrinth and battled with the creature, eventually killing it. He then set sail for Athens, taking Ariadne and the Athenian slaves with him. They stopped at the island of Dia where Theseus sent Ariadne ashore for supplies, then set sail when she left, abandoning her there. It was said that Theseus was in love with another woman and that Ariadne was eventually taken by the God Dionysus as his wife.

Theseus was soon repaid by the Gods for breaking his vow. As he sailed back into Athens, Theseus forgot to change his sails to white. Aegeus was watching for his son's ship from the Athenian acropolis and, seeing the black sails and thinking Theseus had died, threw himself from the acropolis into the ocean and died.

Theseus was made the King of Athens and he made Eleusis and the four tribes of Attica—Geleontes, Hopletes, Argadeis and Aegicoreis—a part of Athenian territory. On one of his exploits, he captured the Queen of the Amazons, who later bore him a son, but died in childbirth. He also famously provided Oedipus—the cursed former King of Thebes—and his daughter Antigone with sanctuary at Colonus just outside Athens.

More misfortune befell Theseus when his second wife Phaedra—another of King Minos' daughters—fell in love with Theseus' son by the Amazonian Queen. The son was horrified by his stepmother's feelings towards him and Phaedra promised to keep her love for him a secret. In truth, she felt deeply wounded and humiliated by his rejection and hung herself, leaving a letter which claimed that he had attempted to rape her. Theseus banished his son from Athens and the boy was killed in a chariot accident before his father discovered the truth.

Theseus later abducted the twelve year old Helen of Sparta as his bride, claiming that as the daughter of Zeus she was the only woman worthy of being his bride. Unfortunately for him, Helen's brothers, Castor and Polydeuces—otherwise known as the Dioscuri—defeated the Athenians and rescued Helen, driving Theseus into exile. He died on the island of Scyros when it's King, fearful of Theseus, pushed him off a cliff while he was admiring the view. His bones were later retrieved by an Athenian admiral and brought back to be kept in a shrine.

Psyche was so absorbed in the story that she failed to notice the person standing in front of her.

Zephyrus observed the girl in front of him stoically, rather impressed that she appeared to be awaiting her fate calmly and with great dignity. He had half expected to find the girl a sobbing mess, or be compelled to retrieve her by force as she attempted to flee. Zephyrus knew what the words of Apollo's proclamation were; Eros had visited him a short time ago to inform him, still steaming with fury. The fact that Psyche was sitting here, waiting patiently for the unknown, spoke volumes about her personal honour and courage. Zephyrus had a feeling that he would rather like this girl.

Not wanting to frighten her unnecessarily when he first appeared, Zephyrus had asked his brother Notus to lend him a veil of fog to cover his enormous wings. He knew that he would appear to Psyche as a mortal man would, except with a strange mist clinging to his shoulders. Once she knew who he was and wasn't afraid, he would shuck the fog and let her see his true form.

"My lady," he addressed Psyche gently, causing the girl's head to snap up in surprise. She let out a startled yelp and promptly fell sideways off the boulder she was sitting on, landing in a graceless sprawl on the grass. She looked up at the stranger through a curtain of dark hair and found herself smiling abashedly as his lips twitched in an obvious effort not to laugh. She surreptitiously looked him over, finding him to be quite handsome and not in the least threatening. There was, however, a definite look of strangeness about him, something about the way the air rippled and shifted around his shoulders. Psyche decided that the man was not mortal, which didn't surprise her as much as it should have. She had become increasingly desensitised to meetings with the Immortals. So, was this the monster that was going to eat her?

"You may laugh, my lord," Psyche informed Zephyrus wryly, pushing her hair out of her face as she sat up. "I fear that it is a well known fact that I am extremely clumsy and unladylike."

Zephyrus smiled, liking the girl more for her lack of guile. It also seemed she had mistaken him for Eros. He would have to correct that mistake directly.

"Ah, you need not be so formal whilst addressing me, my lady," he told her. "I am merely the servant of your future husband."

Psyche's mouth went dry. Was her 'future husband' such a terrible and horrendous creature that he would not brave the sunlight to come and collect her himself?

"I… I see," she said finally. "What am I to call you then?"

"My name is Zephyrus," the stranger answered. He smiled wryly as Psyche's eyes grew rather large in her pale face.

"You… are you… the West Wind?" she squeaked.

"Very good!" he answered, flattered that she had known who he was straight away. He raised an eyebrow as the girl's gaze turned speculative. "What is it?" he asked.

"It's nothing!" Psyche answered hastily. "I just thought… well, I just thought that you would have… well… wings. Being the West Wind and all."

Zephyrus laughed good-naturedly. "I am glad you are taking this so well," he told her. "And yes, I do indeed have wings. I had my brother Notus cover them for me so that you would not be frightened. Would you like to see them?"

"Yes!" Psyche answered eagerly, her expression betraying her curiosity.

Fighting the urge to preen, Zephyrus shrugged off the fog, revealing his extensive wings. Psyche's eyes widened once again as she climbed to her feet, coming closer to him for a better look. She reached out to stroke the gleaming bronze feathers, then realised she was being rather rude.

"May I touch them, Zephyrus?" Psyche asked tentatively. "I've never seen wings before."

"You may," Zephyrus answered. He watched the girl's beautiful face light up with happiness and firmly and repetitively reminded himself that this was Eros' woman. He was deeply in love with Chloris. Who was currently waiting for them back at the palace.

Psyche reverently smoothed her hands across Zephyrus' wings, giggling nervously when he flexed them, obviously showing off. Caught up in the surreal experience, she completely forgot about her anxiety and fear for a few moments.

Zephyrus took in Psyche's enraptured expression as she examined the feathers closely. At least wings won't be an issue with her, he thought dryly. Just the loneliness and lack of trust.

"Well my lady," he began after a few minutes. "We really must be going."

"Where are we going?" Psyche asked, the dread settling firmly back into the pit of her stomach.

"To the house of your future husband," Zephyrus answered. He scooped the girl into his arms before she could protest. "It is my duty to carry you there."

"We're going to fly there?" Psyche asked incredulously.

"It's the only way to get there," Zephyrus informed her. "That's why I was sent to collect you." He strode to the edge of the mountain peak and glanced down at his charge when she began to tremble in his arms. She was staring down at the ocean below, an expression of pure terror on her face.

"You're afraid of heights." It wasn't a question.

"Y-yes," was her stammered confirmation. "I'm sorry, I know it's foolish."

"It's all right." Zephyrus lifted a hand and gently tucked her face into the juncture of his neck and shoulder. "It's probably best that you close your eyes now. You can hang on to me, if you'd like." Psyche's arms wound themselves tightly around his neck and Zephyrus realised just how frightened she really was.

"Are you ready?" he asked her softly.

"Yes." Her voice was muffled by his skin. Zephyrus spread his wings wide and stepped off the edge of the mountain, falling for an instant before he caught a thermal breeze and began to glide smoothly in the direction of Eros' palace.

Psyche had shrieked in fear as they fell through the air, her heart in her mouth. But now, they seemed to be moving through the air without any trouble at all. Gingerly, she raised her face from Zephyrus' shoulder and gulped as she took in the endless stretch of wine dark ocean beneath her. The West Wind's arms were all that was keeping her from tumbling down into the ocean, just like Icarus. She clung to Zephyrus even more tightly and pushed her face back into his shoulder. This whole experience seemed so surreal and strange. This was the first time she had ever been in contact with a man other than her father. However, _this_ particular man was immortal and had wings. If only my father could see me now, Psyche thought wryly. As she stared at the darkness behind her closed eyes, Psyche could feel the rush of energy that had kept her awake the entire night beginning to drain out of her body, leaving her feeling exhausted. I'll just rest against his shoulder for a while, Psyche told herself. With my eyes closed.

"Try to relax my lady, we will arrive at the palace very soon," Zephyrus reassured her. Psyche didn't respond and the rest of the journey was silent.

When Zephyrus touched down in the lush gardens outside Eros' palace, he realised that Psyche's body had gone slack in his arms. He held her away from his chest and realised she had fallen asleep. He felt a rush of sympathy for her, knowing somehow that she had not slept the night before and was probably extremely overwrought. He found a pretty little knoll under a shady tree where the grass was thick and soft and laid Psyche down, taking care not to wake her. He made sure to position her so that she would sight the palace easily when she woke up. Petting her hair affectionately, Zephyrus left her there to sleep, silently wishing her luck.

V

When Psyche woke, she was alone. She raised herself from the velvety grass, looking around but finding no trace of Zephyrus. Feeling a little disappointed at losing someone who had seemed to be her only friend in this frightening situation, she reluctantly climbed to her feet, brushing off her robes. Looking at the sun, she realised that it was late afternoon. Considering Zephyrus had come for her at dawn, she had slept for many hours.

A splash of colour in the corner of her eye got Psyche's attention and she turned, exhaling in awe when she realised she was staring at a palace.

It was simply beautiful, with an august front adorned with white marble and twelve pillars decorated with gold. There was a large set of carved marble stairs in the centre, leading to a pair of wide golden doors. As Psyche gazed upon the splendour of the place, she realised that the palace was the work of Immortal hands and most likely the retreat of a most powerful individual.

Drawn by curiosity, Psyche approached the palace entrance, hoping earnestly that this was the place she was supposed to enter. The huge golden doors swung open easily at her tentative touch, sparking a hunch that the place was magical. She stepped into the main hall and surveyed her surroundings in wonder. The floor was smooth, fawn coloured marble and was chill under her bare feet. Large, sunlit golden pillars held up the vaulted ceiling, which was draped with silk the colour of cream. The walls were covered with flawless tapestries, depicting Gods and men in various scenes; hunting, feasting, farming and dancing. As Psyche walked slowly across the expansive room, she trailed her fingers down one of the weavings, marvelling at the quality of the work.

She realised with a painful twinge that she had never completed the tapestry she was going to give to her father. Shaking off the saddening thought, she called out, "Hello? Is anyone here?" Her voice echoed and bounced off the walls, but no answer came. She decided to explore the palace further, maybe she would find a servant that could help her.

Venturing beyond the main hall, she discovered many other rooms, all filled with tapestries, sculptures and paintings. The very walls themselves were decorated with delicate carvings depicting various animals and objects. She eventually found what she supposed were the apartments of the residing Lord and Lady, which were breathtaking in their elegance. The substantially sized bed of down was draped with crimson sheets and cushions of silk along with spun gold coverlets and curtains. There was a huge mirror hanging on one wall, stretching from the floor to the ceiling. The frame was of twisted vines worked from silver and Psyche caught a glimpse of her reflection; a pale, fragile and ungainly creature amidst a sea of beauty and splendour.

There was a large bathing chamber adjacent to the bedroom with fittings of white marble and gold. The bath itself was sizeable enough that Psyche believed she could float on her back in the water.

The entire place seemed as silent as a tomb and Psyche felt somewhat uneasy as she wandered from room to room. She had not caught sight of anyone yet at all, but she still felt as though she was being watched. It was extremely unsettling. She stopped in the middle of what appeared to be the banquet hall, chewing her bottom lip and trying to decide what she should do.

"My lady," a soft female voice addressed her, making Psyche start and cry out in fright. She looked around sharply, but could see no one.

"Who's there?' she asked, her voice wobbly.

"We are your servants, my lady," another voice, male this time, answered her. Psyche continued to search for the source of the voices, utterly perplexed.

"You cannot see us," the male voice told her after a few moments. Psyche could have sworn she heard a slight note of mirth in his words.

"Why can't I see you?" Psyche wanted to know.

"Because our Lord prefers that we are not seen," the female voice responded. "But do not be afraid my lady. We are here to serve your every wish."

"What are your names?" Psyche questioned the voices. "It would comfort me to know who I am speaking to."

"My name is Admetus," the male voice informed her. "The girl is called Alcestis."

"It is an honour to… meet… you both, Admetus and Alcestis," Psyche told them sincerely. She was glad to have someone to talk to in this strange place, even if they were invisible.

"We have been instructed by our Lord to tell you that everything you see around you is yours to enjoy," Alcestis began. "We, your servants, shall obey all your commands with our utmost care and diligence. If it pleases you my lady, you may retire to your apartment and repose on your bed of down, and when you see fit, a bath will be drawn for you. Supper awaits you in the banquet hall at your leisure."

Psyche supposed that she should do as she was told. The more obediently she behaved, the more likely her husband would be pleased with her and decide not to eat her. The hunger pains in her stomach intensified at the mention of a meal.

"I have already slept a while in the dale outside the palace," Psyche confessed. "But the prospect of a bath is most enticing. Would it be all right to abstain from sleep for now and bathe before coming to supper?"

"My lady may do as she wishes," Admetus replied. "Proper clothing and food will be provided at your pleasure. If you would repair to the bath, Alcestis will attend you."

Psyche followed Admetus' instructions and found the bath ready when she arrived, the fragrant water steaming gently.

"Alcestis?" she asked nervously.

"My lady?"

"Um… Admetus… he's not here as well is he?" The thought of being spied on while bathing put Psyche on edge.

"Of course not my lady!" Alcestis sounded appalled. "I would never let him anywhere near your bathing chamber! You must trust me my lady, we're your servants and we would not dishonour you in any way."

Psyche still felt a little uneasy, but she didn't want to upset Alcestis when she'd only known her for such a short time. She stripped off her plain white supplicant's robes and left them on a delicate brass table, stepping into the warm water gingerly. Finding it to be a suitable temperature, she sank down to her shoulders with a grateful sigh. She was startled to feel capable hands pouring water over her head and washing her hair thoroughly, relaxing when she remembered that Alcestis was her attendant here.

After a long soak in the warm water, complete with a soothing scalp massage and innocuous chatter with Alcestis, Psyche climbed out of the bath, making an effort not to shy away as a towel seemed to wrap itself around her and briskly rubbed her dry. It would most likely take her some time to adjust to the fact that she couldn't see her servants.

When she entered her apartment she found a long white gown lying across the bed, which proceeded to lift up into the air and drape itself over her body.

"How would you like your hair fashioned, my lady?" Alcestis asked her.

"I'm not sure," Psyche responded, biting her lower lip. "I am fairly ignorant when it comes to fashioning hair, my attendant Maia always took care of it for me."

"Would it please you, my lady, if I did the same?"

"Very much so, Alcestis. If you would take care of my hair, I will take care of the pins and the belt for my gown."

The two women worked quickly in comfortable silence. Psyche's hair was brushed with olive oil and curled into dark spirals that reminded her forcibly of Phaedra's effortless curls. She forced herself to sit still as Alcestis' invisible hands applied kohl to her eyes and soft, reddened beeswax to her lips.

"You are so naturally beautiful my lady, I hardly need to use any cosmetics on your face," Alcestis told her warmly. The attendant allowed Psyche to daub herself with jasmine perfume before leading her into the banquet hall for supper.

Psyche had thought that eating alone would be awkward and lonely, however she found that she enjoyed herself immensely. She had been seated at an empty table, which immediately covered itself with a spread of the most delectable delicacies and finest wines she had ever tasted. She attempted to persuade Admetus and Alcestis to join her, but they were both scandalised at the request to share a table with their mistress.

In the end, they both stayed and kept her company, Psyche finding that Admetus in particular possessed a fast wit and a clever tongue. The two of them had bantered and joked back and forth easily, with Psyche enjoying a conversation wholeheartedly for the very first time in her life. Afterwards, Admetus had played the lyre while Alcestis filled the role of a bard and sang the story of Atalanta, the talented huntress and sprinter who vowed only to marry the man who could best her in a foot race. Melanion won with the aid of Aphrodite, who gave him three golden apples to throw during the race. Atalanta was distracted by each apple, stopping to pick them up which gave Melanion the opportunity to get past her. Psyche was absolutely delighted, as she had never heard the story before.

Eventually, the time came when Alcestis suggested that Psyche retire for the night. All at once, the awful foreboding clutched at Psyche's heart and her good mood dissipated. She had not seen her husband before now, but he would surely come for her whilst she was alone in the apartments.

With a heavy heart, she thanked the attendants for their hard work and set off toward the apartment, forcing herself to put one foot in front of the other. As she crossed the threshold, she observed that many candles had been lit, flooding the room in flickering golden light. The sheets on the bed had also been carefully turned down.

Psyche crossed the room slowly and came to stand in front of a large, wrought iron candelabra. After staring at the soft golden flames for a long moment, she closed her eyes and uttered a silent, desperate prayer to whomever might be listening to spare her life.

VI

"Psyche."

The gentle male voice caused the raven haired girl to jump in fright and nearly knock over the candelabra, now the only source of light in the room. All the other candles seemed to have mysteriously extinguished themselves.

Stifling a chuckle at her endearing clumsiness, Eros watched as Psyche whirled and looked around the room with large, frightened eyes. The golden glow of the candle flame cast her face in shadows, highlighting her high cheekbones and delicate brows. Her hair was loose and had been fashioned into soft, shiny ringlets that fell around her shoulders, some brushing against her breasts. The gown she was wearing was form-fitting and almost transparent, fashioned from delicate white silk that clung to the rounded lines of her body. She wore a belt of white and gold silken rope around her waist and the shoulders of her gown were each fastened with a golden pin. As she shifted, the intoxicating scent of jasmine reached Eros' nose. Plainly put, Psyche was breathtaking. Eros literally stopped breathing for a few seconds as he stared at her.

That whole outfit _has_ to be Chloris' doing, Eros thought, gulping a bit as he felt an immediate stirring in his loins. She knew his preferences intimately; what aroused him and what drove him crazy. She knew that he preferred women to wear their hair unbound and she also knew that he adored the scent of jasmine.

"W-who's there?" Psyche stammered.

"Your husband, of course," Eros answered her, his voice a seductive purr.

Psyche felt a fine shiver travel down her spine at the tone of his voice. She wasn't exactly sure what that tone meant, but she was almost certain it was something that regarded marital activities.

"M-my lord," Psyche stuttered, inclining her head in what she hoped was an appropriately welcoming and submissive pose. It couldn't be helped that she was practically trembling from head to foot with fear. Her eyes flicked around the room again, but she still couldn't see anyone. This was definitely strange. His voice sounded like he was only a few feet away, but there was definitely no one else in the room with her.

"Psyche." Her eyes widened in surprise as she realised that now the voice was directly behind her. Genuinely frightened, she began to turn around, but was prevented by gentle hands resting on her shoulders.

"You're frightening me," she blurted out before she could stop herself. "Why can't I see you?" There was a silence following this question and Psyche silently wished she could tear her own tongue out. She had no doubt just offended some monster with the power to eat her whenever he wished.

"Don't be frightened," the voice told her softly. He, or it, was so close that she could feel breath on her cheek. "I'm not going to hurt you." The hands remained where they were, on her shoulders. Psyche desperately tried to catch a glimpse of him without turning her head, but she couldn't see anything.

"Are you invisible? Are you a monster?" Psyche's voice was a little more high-pitched than she would have liked. She felt her cheeks grow warm as she realised that she had spoken again without thinking. Honestly, this thing was going to kill her for her impertinence alone!

To her bewilderment, her answer was a deep, masculine chuckle that sent that peculiar shiver down her spine again.

"I am not a monster my sweet. But still, I think it would be better if you didn't see me."

"Are you going to eat me?" Psyche squeaked fearfully, torn between not wanting to anger whoever the voice belonged to and wanting the terrible anxiety to end.

"I have no intention of eating you." The faint note of exasperation in the voice was completely missed by Psyche as she practically sagged with relief. Praise the Gods! She wasn't going to be dismembered and devoured!

All of a sudden, the anxiety was back full force as something else occurred to her. If this… thing wasn't going to eat her, what did it want with her?

"Psyche," the voice interrupted her thoughts, "I want you to blow out the candles."

"What?" she whispered, beginning to panic. If she blew out the candles, the room would be pitch black. She wouldn't be able to see anything and she wouldn't be able to run if she needed to. It was effectively cutting off her only escape.

"Blow out the candles," Eros repeated patiently. "I promise that I won't hurt you, but I would like you to trust me." He slid his hands from her shoulders down to the small of her back and gave her the gentlest push. "Please."

Psyche stared at the flickering candles. What was going to happen once she blew them out? She felt so afraid, the feeling was almost like suffocating. All at once, Maia's words drifted through her mind: _Promise me that no matter what happens, you will never show them your fear. _

I suppose that principle applies to this creature more than any other, Psyche thought. I must conquer my fear and face my destiny. Tensing her stomach muscles to squash down against her churning tummy, Psyche leant forward and blew the candles out with one gusty exhalation of air.

The darkness was so thick, Psyche could almost feel it pressing against her eyes. She couldn't see a single thing, not even her hands, which she held up in front of her face. She was standing here in the dark, completely vulnerable and at the mercy of some unknown being that was standing right behind her. She fervently hoped that it would keep its word and not hurt her.

Eros took in Psyche's form, the darkness posing no hindrance to his immortal eyes. With an inaudible sigh, he dropped the guise of invisibility from his body. Now that she couldn't see anything in this darkness, he was free to be visible and use all his energy in becoming acquainted with Psyche's body.

Reclaiming her shoulders with his hands once again, Eros turned Psyche to face him. Her eyes were wide, staring blankly into the impenetrable blackness around her. He stepped closer, until his body was almost flush with hers, separated by only an inch or so. His hands moved upwards to her face, his left cupping her jaw while the fingers of his right feathered across her cheekbone.

Psyche gasped softly at the contact, a caress the last thing she had been expecting.

"You are so beautiful," Eros told her, tracing the outline of her parted lips with his thumb. Psyche gaped at him, completely speechless. Eros chuckled, thoroughly loving the poleaxed expression on her face. "Why are you so surprised Psyche? Surely you have been told that you are beautiful before?"

"Yes, my lord," Psyche answered, finally finding her voice. She would have left it at that, had Eros not stopped in his gentle caressing and tilted her chin upwards.

"I don't want you to call me that," he chided her. "I don't want you to speak to me like that either."

"W-why?"

"I am your husband but I am not your lord. You and I are equal here, in every way. I want you to be able to tell me whatever you want to tell me. I want to listen to you talk to me about whatever you want to talk about."

"What? Why? Why would you want… that?" Psyche was doing a wonderful reprisal of that poleaxed look.

Truthfully, she felt ready to faint. Not only was he not going to kill her, he seemed… pleased that he was her husband!

"What would you like me to call you?" Psyche asked shyly.

"One day I will tell you my name," Eros answered her. "But I would love it if you called me by a pet name. I plan on calling _you_ by many pet names." Eros could practically feel Psyche blush, the heat was that intense. "Perhaps, until you feel comfortable, you could make do with calling me 'husband.'"

"All right. Husband." She said it so softly Eros almost didn't catch it.

"Good." Smiling like an utter fool, Eros leaned down and brushed his lips against hers, amused at the way she stiffened at the contact. He slid his arms around her waist and pulled her flush against his body, letting her feel the physical effect she was having on him. Her sharp intake of breath and trembling limbs told him that not only had she noticed his manhood, she was also about to collapse from nerves.

He pressed his lips tenderly against her temple, using one hand to cradle the back of her head. "Don't be frightened my love," he murmured. "I know that you are innocent and inexperienced in the practices of love."

"Y-yes," her voice was somewhere between a surprised stammer and a breathy gasp.

"Trust me to take care of you Psyche," Eros told her, punctuating his statement with a string of kisses along her jaw line. "I love you and I'm going to use this whole night to prove it to you."

"You… love me?" Psyche whispered, shivering as her husband continued to kiss his way down her neck.

Eros raised his head, taking in the fragile hope woven through her words and written across her face. How could he _not_ love her, when she looked at him like that?

"Of course I love you," he answered simply. "That's why I took you as my wife."

There it was, the one thing she had always wanted so very much: love. Knowing that this man loved her unleashed a heady feeling of happiness Psyche had thought she would never experience. He loved her! He _loved _her!

Eros watched Psyche's face light up with joy and felt privileged that he had been able to give her something that brought her so much happiness. He got the shock of his life when she leaned forward and kissed him. True, she missed and kissed him half on the mouth and half on the chin, but still, a kiss was a kiss!

Realising that she had kissed him in the wrong place, Psyche drew back with a nervous laugh. How embarrassing! Her first proper kiss and she missed! She was caught off guard when Eros followed her back, claiming her lips in a kiss that made her knees feel weak. It was different to the first kiss he had given her, which had just been a brief, gentle brush. This kiss was a firm press of his lips against hers, but his head felt like it was on a slight angle, so that their noses didn't get in the way. She closed her eyes as her husband kissed her repeatedly on the mouth, keeping his hand where it was on the back of her head while the other stroked up and down her spine in smooth, gentle sweeps. Psyche decided that she liked kissing and rested her hands flat against her husband's chest with a contented sigh. She was surprised to encounter warm skin and hard muscle under her palms instead of cloth. Curious, she broke the kiss and shifted her hands, running her fingertips gently over his skin. She smiled to herself when she felt his hand on her back stop moving and heard his breath catch ever so slightly. She continued to run her hands over his skin, concluding that as far as she could tell, his chest felt like any normal man's.

Eros tried to restrain himself from throwing Psyche to the floor right then and there and making hard, passionate love to her. That little sigh of hers a few seconds ago had almost done him in. He had to control himself! Psyche was a virgin and it was important that this first time was something special for her. He would use every skill he possessed to bring her pleasure and, most importantly, he would not rush her. He had all night to make love to her.

Drawing in a calming breath, he moved his hands so that one was resting between her shoulder blades while the other was splayed in the small of her back. He bowed his head and pressed his lips against her collarbones and the hollow of her throat, alternating each kiss with a swift glide of his tongue. Her skin was just as sweet and intoxicating as Eros had imagined it would be. With a wicked grin, he worked his way up her slender white neck, wanting to taste her mouth properly.

Psyche trembled as she felt her husband's mouth against her décolletage. His lips were incredibly soft and warm and they were setting off a plethora of unknown feelings in different parts of her body. Her breasts felt strangely tight and heavy, while there was an odd fluttering feeling in the pit of her stomach that seemed to radiate ripples of heat and cold. She bit back a moan when she realised that he was using his tongue as well as his lips. It felt so good, but Psyche knew that she should stay quiet and passive. In her opinion, it would be most unladylike to moan like an animal. Wives were expected to be submissive and receptive to their husbands and Psyche desperately wanted to be a good wife. Her head fell back of its own volition as her neck was lavished with the same attention, her body seemingly ignoring her thoughts.

Eros paused in his ministrations to observe his wife. He purred with satisfaction as he took in her blissful expression and closed eyes. He knew that she had stifled a noise just a moment ago and he was determined to banish all of her inhibitions. Cradling her head once again, he leaned in and dragged his tongue across her closed lips. Her gasp of surprise was all the incentive Eros needed and he moved quickly, sliding his tongue into her mouth.

The heat rippling through Psyche's body seemed to intensify as she struggled to cope with this new sensory onslaught. This kiss felt completely different to the others, it was warmer and softer and more… Psyche struggled to find the word. Intense? Her husband seemed to be exploring her mouth thoroughly, stroking his tongue against hers in a sensual rhythm that was making her feel dizzy. She moved her hands upwards, clasping his broad shoulders for support. The last thing she wanted to do was fall in a heap on the floor and have her husband discover how clumsy she was. Psyche wondered dazedly about what would happen if she returned his kiss. Was she supposed to kiss him back like this? She supposed that she could try. If he didn't like it, he would surely tell her.

Eros struggled to maintain his self-control when Psyche shyly began to respond to the kiss, sliding her tongue against his. How was it that such an innocent could arouse him so? He pulled away, breathing heavily and was relieved that her breathing sounded laboured also. If she kept kissing him like that, everything would be over within the next couple of minutes. Eros' hands clenched lightly—one crushing silk, the other fisting in Psyche's hair—itching to tear the clothing from her body.

"Did I do something wrong?" Psyche's voice was husky and anxious. Eros realised that his pulling away so suddenly must have caused her to think she had made a mistake.

"No," he answered, uncurling the fingers of one hand so they could comb gently through her hair. "You are just so beautiful and perfect, I am having trouble controlling myself."

Psyche's heart began to pound painfully in her chest at his words. She felt a little frightened by his words; what was it that he couldn't control himself from doing? At the same time, she felt a throbbing tightness begin to build between her legs, the same feeling that she had felt when Maia told her the story of Oedipus and when she had been waking up that afternoon on Poseidon's feast day. All of a sudden, Psyche wondered if the incredible feeling that had pulsed through her body that day as she woke up had something to do with the things married people did in private. She had often heard the female servants whispering about particular men and their ability to bring pleasure to women using different parts of their body. At the time, she had wondered what that could possibly mean.

She felt her husband shift his weight slightly, reminding her of the hardness that pressed into her stomach. Pushing her slight panic aside for the moment, Psyche wondered if he was feeling the same sensation between _his _legs that she was feeling between hers.

"You don't have to… control yourself," she whispered after a long silence, desperately wanting to please him. "I am your wife, it is my duty to give you what you want." She was unprepared for the feel of his hands sliding up and down the outside of her thighs, caressing her skin through the thin silk she was wearing.

"Is that so?" Eros breathed into her ear, loving the way she shivered. He took his hands away from her skin. "In that case my love, turn around." There was a large mirror behind her and he wanted to see her face every moment while he touched her.

Psyche did as she was told, wondering what was going to happen. She shrieked in surprise as his fingers deftly undid the pins at her shoulders, causing her gown to fall in a puddle around her feet. She was completely naked!

Eros watched in amusement as Psyche covered her body self-consciously with her hands. He pressed his body into the curve of her back and gently pried her shaking hands away from her body.

"Don't hide yourself," he told her. "Especially not from me. I love every part of you and I want to admire and worship you." Eros let her hands drop to her sides and let himself take in the sight of her body, reflected in the mirror.

Her skin was pale and delicate, even more so than the white skin on her face and arms. She had full breasts, a small waist, rounded hips and long, slender legs. In that moment, Eros thought Psyche to be infinitely more beautiful than his mother. The Goddess of Love was nothing but a pale and lacking comparison to his wife.

He moved his hands to her thighs again, tracing the slightly rounded outline with the lightest of touches. He let them drift around and smoothed his palms over her backside gently and then trailed upwards to stroke the sensitive curve of her waist with the pads of his fingers.

Psyche gasped despite her best attempts to stay quiet. Whatever it was that he was doing, it felt amazing. Every touch of his fingers would send bolts of heated pleasure tingling just under her skin. After his hands feathered lightly across her stomach, they rose a little higher, fingers sweeping against the outside of her ribcage. Psyche let her head fall back, her eyes fluttering shut.

Eros brushed the backs of his hands against the sides of her breasts and was rewarded with another small gasp. Growing more confident through her reactions, he cupped her breasts gently with both hands, stroking his thumbs across the peaks. This time Psyche let out a full fledged mewl, arching her back slightly to press her breasts more firmly into his hands.

"Do you like that, beloved?" he purred into her ear.

"Yes," she whispered. Eros could see that she was blushing, even in the dark.

"Don't be afraid to tell me if you like something," he told her, tweaking her nipples lightly with his fingers. The way she shuddered against him was extremely gratifying.

"I like that," Psyche murmured. "Don't stop." She was feeling acutely embarrassed, however the thought of him stopping if she didn't speak was motivation enough for her to push her modesty aside.

Eros' brows disappeared into his hairline. This woman was so intriguing and _so _arousing. Unable to stop himself, he moved silently to stand in front of her. "If you liked _that_ my love…," he whispered.

Psyche's only warning was the soft brush of breath across her chest before his mouth closed over her breast. She moaned in pleasure as he suckled gently, swirling his tongue around one nipple while he stroked and teased the other with his fingertips. His other hand slid slowly down her stomach, the calluses on his palm scraping gently against her smooth skin. Psyche was so focussed on the delicious sensations his mouth was creating that she didn't fully realise what her husband was doing until he touched her right _there_.

_**To read the explicit, unsanitised version of the love scene, please visit my profile, where you will find a link to my Live Journal.**_

After lying in this way for a while, Eros felt Psyche's fingers combing gently through his hair. He nuzzled her neck before lifting his face to kiss her.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

"Yes," she answered. She sounded a little bit overwhelmed and Eros guessed that her release must have been more intense than the last one. He rolled onto his side, gathering Psyche into his arms and curling himself around her.

"Was that… making love?" she asked him after a lengthy silence.

"Yes, it was," Eros replied. "Did you find it pleasurable?"

"Y-yes," Psyche responded, stammering a little. "Very much so." Eros chuckled.

"I'm glad. I want to be able to love you like this every night."

"What about during the day?" Psyche wanted to know.

"I won't be here during the day," Eros told her. "I have important matters to attend to. I will be leaving before you wake up."

"Won't you stay and let me see you when I wake up?" Psyche asked plaintively.

"No," Eros said firmly. His tone brooked no argument and Psyche pressed her lips together, feeling a little upset.

Eros felt Psyche hunch away from him and knew he'd upset her. He tightened his arms around her and dropped kisses on her naked shoulder. "I have my reasons for this, beloved," he said soothingly. "Please accept them for now. It doesn't mean I love you any less."

Psyche nodded, feeling slightly mollified. She felt a little bit sweaty and messy and would have liked to have another bath. However, her husband showed no sign of letting go of her and Psyche rather liked the way she was being held. His scent of ginger and sandalwood was warm and comforting and Psyche found her eyelids drooping. She was asleep a short time later, leaving her lover lying awake for many hours afterwards, staring into the darkness with thoughts and worries keeping sleep at bay.

_**Author's Notes**_

_Please read and review or I won't know if I'm any good!_

_Another big chapter! Hopefully you all enjoyed it. I tried to portray Psyche's loss of virginity as realistically as I could. The scene where the male just 'slides in' without any great amount of difficulty or pain whatsoever just doesn't sit right with me. Sex (especially the first experience) is usually messy, painful and nerve-wracking. I tried to counterbalance this negativity of Psyche's experience with Eros' tenderness and concern._

_There's a lot going on in this chapter, hopefully it wasn't all too much for you. There are a lot of little sub-plots going on between the other Gods and Goddesses, but I played them down in this chapter to get Psyche and Eros' first meeting over and done with. Next chapter will see some interaction between Chloris and Zephyrus. Ares might pop in for a bit of father/son bonding and Aphrodite, in an astonishing twist, might throw a pointless tanty over something trivial._

_I hope you liked my retelling of the story of Oedipus. It was taken from the Greek play Oedipus Rex, which was written by Sophocles. It's one of my favourite Greek tragedies and it was also the play my Drama class performed in Year 12, 2001. If you ever come across it, I was one of the six members of the Chorus. I knew the entire script, front to back._

_Theseus' story is quite long and complicated, but I set it out as best I could. When Aegeus committed suicide, the stretch of ocean he drowned in was named the Aegean Sea in his honour._

_Icarus was the son of Daedalus, the creator of the Labyrinth at Minos' palace in Knossos. Minos kept Daedalus and Icarus prisoner on Crete since they were the only ones who knew the secret of the Labyrinth. Daedalus fashioned a pair of wings for himself and his son to aid their escape, attaching them with melted candle wax. As they flew away, Icarus was seized with a fancy to 'out-fly' the Sun, which resulted in the wax melting and the wings falling off. He fell into the ocean and drowned._

_I got information on the four tribes of Attica from this website: __._

_It was just a passing mention, so it's probably not historically correct. Forgive me!_


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